Finality of absolution
by Siberiancypress
Summary: Staged after S2. Marcus heard the voice of God after long months of silence just to be told, that Tomas is in danger. We'll follow the paths of both Marcus and Tomas as they struggle to unwind the web of demons, survive, and come back together. It's a long road and through the endless turns we'll meet new allies and enemies they'll find along the way. [Marcus/Tomas] [Marcus/OC]
1. Chapter 1

First of all, I claim no rights to characters in this fiction, except my OCs. All rights belong to the talented creators of The Exorcist (TV series on FOX). I gain nothing but good time from this fiction.

Now with the official procedure out of the way, I'd like to say this show has ridiculously small amounts of fiction. Like, what the hell, people? It's amazing, and clever, and outstandingly well written...so I'm sort of afraid to sully the great writing with this fiction, but I hope you'll forgive me. I can't wait for the next season, so it took over my head. This is the result. I can't guarantee I'll post regularly, due to personal issues, but I'll try.

Right, here goes.

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Finally after months and months of existing Marcus Keane felt like he's marginally alive again. He had nearly run off of that pier after hearing God's voice again - full and dizzy with all the emotions swimming in his head.

Tomas. He needs to save Tomas, somehow.

By that same afternoon Marcus had already broken off his contract with the fishing vessel he had been working on for the last three months. The work there was hard, it hurt his back and blistered his hands…but at least it was honest work and the exhaustion helped him not to think too much. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. No need for that any more.

He hastily finished gathering the few belongings from the half empty little room he called home. There were so very few possessions he cared enough to bring along it all fit into the dirty green backpack easily. Only now, when he felt like there is some use for him in this world again, Marcus realized how much he hated the life he lived for the last half a year. This tiny, filthy room with mould on the walls. The gruff, filthy men he worked with in the harbour.

Beginning was the worst he remembered - just after he left Tomas and Mouse in that motel and walked off…all he wanted to do was to stop existing. To curl up in some nameless little nook somewhere and not move for a decade. Suicide was not an option of course, he already had one cardinal sin closing in around his neck like a noose - there was no need to hang another one there. So he chose the next best thing - drinking himself into oblivion nearly every night for the first couple of weeks. Only the sight of his unwashed, unshaved hangover face in the mirror brought him back from the brink - Marcus realized he was turning into his own father, which was terrifying enough to stop him.

Soon, however, painful thoughts of this empty existence made him feel like a broken gadget - something that was used and worn down and useless. He was so used to being a gun in the church's hand that now there was nothing left to give him form or purpose. Even if there was, he didn't feel worthy of it. Of love. Of hope. It hurt...and that felt surprisingly good. Pain and shame were in some twisted way comfortable, which ended the former priest on a path to self punishment of sorts. He'd go to a bar from time to time and pick someone up, most often a man - women were too much effort to woo and he didn't have it in him. Men were easier - smile, nod them over, accept a drink and that was enough to land him in a cramped bathroom stall with a filthy old sailor running his large, sandpaper soft hands all over the former priest. Marcus would let them touch him, and service the sorry bastards the best he knew how (which was not an extensive baggage of knowledge) ignoring the putrid smell of unwashed clothes, fish guts and cheap alcohol. But he would never go all the way, never let them take him. The thought of letting one of these unwashed, uncouth men divest him of something he kept for his entire life - sometimes at great cost - made him slightly sick. He desperately tried not to think about Tomas in these moments, not to sully his warm, sweet face with unholy acts. Most days it worked, but he'd still slip from time to time and hold on to the memory of sun reflecting in those brown eyes, just to get through to the end of the evening. It was a fine torture for a short moment while it lasted, but the more he did it, the emptier and dirtier he felt. Like all the dirt on their hands would stick to Marcus and stay there. Soon he got so tired of the scruffy faces, unwashed bodies and slurred voices whispering disgusting little praises in his ears he ended up puking his guts out on the sidewalk after one particularly slimy encounter. That was the end of that.

The last two months he stopped going to bars and started to pray again, the rosary Mother Bernadette gave him always on the chair by his bed. Though he didn't feel worthy of the honour of praying after corrupting himself in nearly every way possible, he still prayed. It was a familiar relief.

And God heard him. Forgave him. Loved him despite all his misconducts.

So now Marcus had a job to do. Again.

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He was an idiot and he knew it now.

Marcus left the little dormitory room in such a hurry he ignored the fact he had no idea where to go, didn't check the ferry schedules ether, so after jumping on one ferry to a nearby island he had to wait for another one 'till next morning. The former exorcist was too restless to fall asleep so instead of finding a room for the night he just kept circling the small streets like a homeless dog, staring through well lit windows when the evening rolled in. Thoughts of Tomas never left the front of his mind, turning in circles over and over - until he felt so exhausted he just laid down on the closest bench in some nameless park.

The next thing he knew was warmth. Someone's warm hand was touching his neck. It was burning hot, the hand…or rather his own body was cold to numbness. Marcus barely had it in him to open his eyes at the moment. All of the morning mists seemed to have seeped into his bones and crystallized there making his body ridiculously heavy and so very, very cold. The exorcist grunted and forced his eyes open to be greeted by the sight of a broad shouldered man in a dark coat crouching over him.

"Sir, can you hear me? Do you know where you are?" the stranger asked in a low, cultured voice and after months of sailor slang it dripped over Marcus' ears like warm honey.

"'m fine." he croaked out trying and failing to get up. The damn limbs just wouldn't cooperate and his half awakened mind was too foggy o fully process the sudden desire to crawl in between the lapels of that soft looking coat, curl up against the warm body there and fall back asleep.

"You're on the brink of hypothermia." the stranger deadpanned "Do you have somewhere to go? If not I'll take you to the hospital."

The annoying nuisance had dark grey eyes with a bright yellow sunburst around the pupil and they were sharply focused on Marcus at the moment, seemingly exploring his face with unnerving scrutiny. It was enough to make the blue eyed exorcist move.

"No." he replied instantly. Wasting time was out of the question. "No hospital. I'll be fine. I have a ferry to catch, love."  
Marcus hurriedly reached for his bag under the bench and was ready to take off when the stranger decided to clarify:

"By the ferry I assume you mean the one that left half an hour ago?"

"Shite." All of the nervous energy driving him to move drained away in an instant, as if someone had pulled the plug, and the exorcist limply fell back down on the bench. The thought of Lord knows how many hours treading the same narrow streets was maddening. Just like all wild animals Marcus Keane hated to be caged. "Shite." he repeated wearily.

"If it's any consolation there is another ferry leaving in exactly three and a half hours." the man said neutrally, still looking at the exorcist inquisitively "In the mean time it would be a good idea to get something warm into your system."

"What is it to you?" he bit out a little too scorchingly and regretted it the next moment. The poor fellow was just trying to help…

"I'm afraid it's my job." stranger said without any sign of anger at Marcus' outburst.

"And what's that, then? You a doctor? A priest, perchance?" the exorcist asked sarcastically. Now that would be hilarious.

"No, I'm a federal servant. And sleeping on benches is against the law, so technically I can arrest you..."

"Federal...?A copper?"

"Along the lines." the man answered with a small crooked smile.

"Wonderful…I'll be off in a second, officer, no need to get your knickers in a twist."

"I never said I _intend_ to arrest you. I'm off duty, here on a private matter and waiting for the exact same ferry." After a pause he added "There's a diner down the street. If you're planning on getting up from that bench anytime soon perhaps you'd like to join me for breakfast? It's on me."

Only then Marcus realized how he must look like - an old, skinny fellow with scruffy hair, frostbitten fingers and worn out clothes, sleeping on a bloody bench. 'Great, I look like a stray dog, who's been kicked one too many times' he thought begrudgingly and already prepared to tell the man to bugger off, but stopped at the last second. What good will it do? Another three hours of wandering about didn't seem very appealing…if he has no other options at least some company (that does not smell like fish) might be nice.

"Sure." the exorcist finally answered calling up his toothiest grin " I hope they have half decent coffee."

"We'll see." agent said reaching a hand out to Marcus "I'm Jonathan Archer."

"Marcus Keane."

The coffee was awful, but at least warm, so Marcus couldn't exactly complain. His hands stung on the cup as the heat returned slowly into his fingers and joints. Despite the fact he refused Jonathan's breakfast offer the damn copper still ordered him an egg sandwich and nagged until he ate. In that respect he painfully reminded Marcus of Tomas and his incurable mother hen streak. It was about their only similarity, really. Where Tomas was all soft curved lines, caramel skin and warm greenish brown eyes accompanied by a gentle voice with a rich Spanish accent, this man was the complete opposite. While they made small talk - which Marcus was proficient in faking - he took time to observe. Jonathan Archer was an unusual specimen for a bureaucrat - composed of strict, clear cut lines, his light skin tone contrasted strongly with dark brown hair, streaks of silver already in it. 'He'd make a great study in contrasts and shadows. Well over forty.' Marcus decided absentmindedly. Despite the age when most men end up a little (or not so little) soggy around the middle, this one was trim and athletic, not an inch of unnecessary fat…or muscle for that matter. Actually everything about this man seemed very…utilitarian. Plain dark blue sweater, small watch on a black leather band, clean hands with short nails, no wedding ring. The only thing out of place was a scar - or rather two identical scars - on the inside of his wrists. Marcus would have asked if it wasn't so wildly inappropriate. Instead he settled on something a bit less intrusive:

"So what brought you to this grey little island?"

"More like who, not what." the man paused for few long seconds, seemingly looking for the right words "I was wondering how to start this conversation, but there is no sane way to say this, so…I was here looking for someone. A man I don't really know…by the name of Marcus Keane."

It made every hair on Marcus' neck stand up. They have found him. But why bother with this game? Why not just kill him in the park with far less witnesses? The only plausible option he could think of was fairly simple - they need information. About Tomas, maybe?

"You found me. You lured me here. And what happens if I choose to just stand up and leave?" the exorcist said quietly, counting potential witnesses…or collateral damage.

"Nothing. You will walk through that door. But, please, Marcus... please wait. When I came up to you lying on that bench, I didn't know it was you. Only when I saw the face of my accidental stranger did I realize I've found you. It's my third day here, and I was about ready to give up jumping from one island to another trying to pin you down…"

"And who put you up for this search?" Marcus growled sitting back down in front of Jonathan. Two can play this game.

"A young priest. The name's Tomas Ortega. I hope you know him?" agent asked carefully, as if not sure if the name will get any kind of reaction. It did. All colour drained from Marcus' face only to come back with a vengeance.

"You know where Tomas is?" he said almost in a whisper, not daring to think what this may mean.

"Not exactly..." the dark haired man trailed off, seemingly unsure how to continue.

"Then you mind explaining me how he could have asked you to find me?" Marcus demanded, voice slow and calculated - the one he uses when trying to drag a demon out. Tone meant to gnaw at the places it hurts most...unfortunately after a second it gave way to complete shock.

"I...ah...had a dream. A series of dreams, to be exact." the agent said looking extremely uncomfortable. All Marcus could do is sit there, rendered speechless. He'd been in this situation before, over a year ago, when a lovely young priest came to look for him in another God forsaken hole, and stammered shyly about the dreams he'd had.

"What?" was all the blue eyed man managed to squeeze out. Jonathan just sighed, clamped his hands together, as if in prayer, and spoke up much steadier:

"Look, I know how this sounds, and believe me if I hadn't been the one to experience it I would have laughed...but now I simply don't know what to think. Just for the record, the bureau tests it's agents' mental health periodically, so I'm not disturbed in any way...and despite that nearly two weeks ago I had a dream about a young man, a priest, chained to a wall in some strange room. I tried to get him free, but it didn't work. Upon waking I wrote it down to the iconic dream every policeman, fireman or soldier has regularly - the nightmare of being unable to save someone...but the next night I have the exact same dream. This time the priest stops me from meddling with the chains and insistently keeps telling me his name, last name and ID code, which, mind you, is a very strange thing to hear in a dream. When I woke up I couldn't help but get that ID code into the search system, and had a minor meltdown when it all correlated - the name, last name, occupation…and the fellow was missing for the whole year according to the record. So I tried to dig up as much as I could about him. Eventually ended up falling asleep at my desk and dreaming of him again. He showed me the time you spent in Chicago, during the…er… kidnapping of young Miss Rance. At the time I was there too, to investigate the nine murders committed in the same neighbourhood. It was strange to see the same time from the viewpoint of a different person…

"What did he show you? What if I don't believe you? What can you tell me to change my mind?" Marcus asked piercing the man to the spot with a scrutinizing gaze.

"He showed me a demon." Jonathan said quietly, looking at his palms spread out on the table. "That girl was not kidnapped. She was possessed. He showed me a tiny room with mattresses on the floor and a chain hooked into the middle of the floor. Pillows were stuffed into the window…and you were yelling at her…it…"  
Marcus was starting to feel positively sick. The spinning sensation of déjà vu left him slightly lightheaded. Apparently God has a sense of humour - a dark and nasty one.

"What else?" the former priest forced his voice into a steady and low grumble.

"Then there was another room, with stained glass windows, like they have in churches...the chairs were floating in the air...and you had a...strange rosary in your hands, like two nails crossing..."

That was the final straw. Come hell or high water, Marcus knew he has to at least give this strange man a try. He did fall into the exorcist's lap right after God sent him to save Tomas...It may be God's will or it may be a clever trap, but there is no way of walking into this relationship with a Cheshire cat grin, like he did with Tomas. This decision has to be made here and now - with no mask of fake superiority, just smithereens of fragile hope and frostbitten fingers. Finally settling on a decision Marcus took a deep breath and quietly said:

"Reach out your hand, palm up. Go on." when Jonathan did so without a moment of doubt, he rummaged under the neckline of his ratty grey shirt and dragged out Mother Bernadette's cross, placing it in Archers hand. It was both a proof and a test. When the agent drew a sharp breath, Marcus fully expected him to drop the sacred item, but instead long calloused fingers wrapped around it, mapping the still warm metal in his palm.

"Jesus..." Jonathan spoke just above whisper "that's the rosary from my dream. It's all real, isn't it? The demons, the crazy Spanish priest...Jesus."

"Yeah, pretty much. Sorry to tell you, love."

"No. No...it's fine. I'll wrap my head around it, just give me a minute." the dark haired man said, still fiddling with the cross in one hand and lifting the other to rub his temple in slow circles "I was sort of hoping you'll tell me I'm mad and send me home. If being crazy is the better option, I'd say the situation is pretty shitty."

"Do you still want to find Tomas?"

"If I'm not wrong...if this whole mess is as real and as big as I think, it's not just about him. But the man in my head does need help, and soon."

"The what?" Marcus asked a little puzzled, crooking his head to the side, sort of like a cat.

"I...ah...sort of started to call Tomas that after the first few days of dreaming of him. At the time I just thought I was going crazy. Honestly, I'm still not sure that I'm not."

"I can't say if you're screwed in the head or not, but that actually happened."

An uneasy silence lingered for a few moments before Marcus spoke up again:

"God spoke to me yesterday." he said out of the blue "It's been a long...long time since he last spoke to me..."

"Okay..." Jonathan said slowly, clearly not sure how to react to that confession "What did he say?"

"That he still loves me." Marcus said with a watery smile, staring at his half empty cup. It infuriated him to no end to spill his guts like that to relative strangers, but there were very few people in his life, who were more than that...so it just happened sometimes. "And...and that Tomas is in trouble, that he's waiting for me to come and help him...save him, somehow..."

"We will. Save him, that is." Jonathan said with unwavering resolve and it made the former priest feel a little steadier, like the ground under his feet was less shifty and his feet less wobbly. Maybe they could do this together, but he still had to be sure this was not a trap.

"Do you have any idea where we could start looking for him?"

"He was travelling with a woman and I managed to trace them up to Canada border. Then they disappeared from radar. When I had the dreams I asked him the usual questions any cop would ask a kidnapping victim - what can he see in his confinement? Is it day or night? What can he hear? And so on. I gathered they must be somewhere close to North Pole, since he said it was half dark all the time he's been there. He heard boat sirens. Also no one he could hear spoke French...so I can only assume Alaska."

"Alaska?!" Marcus asked dumbstruck "Are you taking the piss?"

"Unfortunately no."

"That's a bit of a trip...You sure you can spare the time?"

"Three weeks, that's all I have. Well, it was three weeks, now it's two weeks and three days, then I'll have to go back to work, so we better hurry. It's best if we talk somewhere more private, then I'll tell you where I think would be the best to start."

"And where d'you think we should go, then?"

"I have a hotel room booked, it won't boot us out until midday, so we have about three hours. We can discuss the route there. Also...well, frankly you need a shower." the agent said smiling a little sardonically.

"How nice of you to mention it...Fine. But first we'll pass by a church." Marcus said getting up from the chair and rushing through the door without backward glance.

"Why are we going to church?" Jonathan asked, keeping in stride with the rushing priest.

"Because I'm bathing you in holy water to see if you catch on fire. Just in case."

"Well I certainly won't catch on fire, but I might catch pneumonia instead." the agent complained half heartedly.

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The small white church with peeling paint and a slightly crooked cross on top was as desolate as it looked like from the outside, so the two strange men committing unholy acts went completely unnoticed. After agent Archer was thoroughly drenched in holy water he, fortunately, did not catch on fire (begrudgingly the man even drank a gulp or two under Marcus' request), so it was the exorcist's turn to be drenched, in a far more pleasurable way.  
When the agent said he had a hotel room, he wasn't joking. The shower had clean cream tile floor, seemingly endless supply of hot water and soap that did not smell like cheap lavender air freshener. Thus, Marcus took his time under the spray, allowing heat to seep into his limbs and make his usually pale skin ridiculously pink. There was no threat of someone barging in like it used to be in the building he lived in – it had communal showers. Nasty, but at least functional. This was different...a luxury he had long forgotten to crave. Marcus decided his body does not fit well in the fancy environment. He was too old, thin like a wraith, covered in scars, blisters and creaking at the joints. Just like the shower back in the wreck he called home – nasty, but functional. 'It'll have to do' he thought a little bitterly. 'So long as this old shell does not give out on me before I find Tomas, I'll be happy.'

More than half an hour later he stepped out into the main room with dry hair and relatively fresh clothes to find Jonathan curled up in one of the armchairs. His eyes darted to Marcus the moment he moved through the door and turned back to a laptop screen just as quickly, like it was a barely conscious movement. A reflex.

"Well, now that I don't stink anymore, will you tell me where are we going?" he asked with the usual charming ease, plopping down on the bed like it was his.

"Kaktovik, most likely. There were few deaths reported there, with various organs missing, so I can only guess it's...ah...demons. Christ, that sounds strange."

"You'll get used to it. By the way, you said you were in Chicago for the murders in the neighbourhood. Since when is it federal business?" Marcus questioned laying himself down fully, with hands above his head.

"Since year and a half ago, when the first killing spree like that hit New York. You see, it's not just Chicago or Kaktovik - it's all over The States and not only." that got the exorcist's attention very quickly. He even sat back up in bed with a shocked expression as Archer continued "I worked with war crimes at the time, but when this case grew and grew, the higher ups simply dropped it on my head."

"You mean to say that all of these people had organs missing? What organs exactly?"

"Just like Chicago - hearts, livers, skin of hands and feet, eyes, genitals..."

"Do you even have any idea what it's used for?" Marcus asked, half angry. Why the church didn't know about this and let some amateurs chase demons?

"Ceremony of ash. Demon invocation." Archer answered without skipping a beat. It stunned Marcus into silence for a moment.

"How in the bloody hell do you know that?"

"It's my case, so it's my job to know. Though I didn't expect actual demons...for me it was just a cult of whacky demon worshipers until now. I liked the cult version infinitely better. It's at least something I'm familiar with - I know how to hunt humans. Demons...not so much."

The agent still kept his eyes on the screen, marking something there with a thick red line. The lights from computer screen cast blue reflections on the thin metallic frames of reading glasses Marcus remembered wasn't there before. On the spur of the moment he felt the desire to draw it, to imprint that profile in stark lines of black and white. Maybe he will, sometime.

"That happens to be my job. The only one I know how to do properly." the exorcist said under his breath and a little louder added "What are you doing there? A little colouring to soothe the nerves? I heard it's become popular..."

"I'm calculating the fastest and least crowded route to Kaktovik. We should be there in two days if we make one motel stop. I assume you drive?"

"I drive just fine, but no posh hotels?" Marcus teased good naturedly.

"Too many booking procedures, too easy to track." Jonathan answered ignoring the jabs completely. "We'll need to get a new car and some warmer clothes for you when we get to the mainland."

"Do you ever get the stick out of your arse?" former priest bristled a little, annoyed at being ignored.

"Do you ever get it in?" the reply was mostly toneless, maybe a little annoyed, but the wording made flush rise up Marcus' neck. Tacky bastard didn't even notice, thankfully. "On a more proper note, you do realize we are on the clock here?"

"You think? And where the money for the car and clothes will come from? I hate to tell you, love, but I'm about as rich as a beggar."

"My account." Archer answered without skipping a beat.

"Sorry?"

"I'll buy it. This country pays feds reasonably well, and if you do try to do your job properly there's not enough time to sleep, let alone spend money, so they sort of accumulate. After ten years I have a minor fortune. At least now it will come in handy."

That silenced the former priest quickly and easily. 'What kind of a man simply accepts the idea of demon's existence without more than a few minutes of rubbing his temples? Is ready to drop the comfortable lifestyle he's had for years and spend his money on something not even directly concerning him? To stand up and walk the extra mile following nothing more than a faint vision of something he barely believes?' Marcus had to admit that, despite his severe and taciturn character, Archer is an impressive man, someone worth respecting, if not liking.

"Marcus?"

"Hmm?"

"Go to sleep, we have an hour to spare, better not waste it."

The exorcist nearly growled, tempted to take his prior unspoken compliments back. There were few people in the world, who would dare to blatantly order him around...and he just had to get himself stuck with one.

"You know I'm already starting to hate you."

"I know. It's a common reaction."

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Eleven days ago

Tomas laid on a lumpy mattress in yet another room. They just keep moving him. There is not much to do in between the interrogations and the dreams. He's been switching between the two so often it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. When they come to interrogate him he goes into the spirit world and stays there. When the sights in his dreams become unbearable, he drifts back to reality. Whenever he was in the real world, the weight of Mouse's gun seemed to be imprinted into his hand. Tomas couldn't stop wondering what did they do wrong?

His first weeks with Mouse had been a fog. He would just drive when told to, eat when told to and discuss how to track the whole spider web of demons. And think of Marcus. 'Where was he? Did he eat properly? Did he find someplace to go...and maybe the demons found him before that?'

Mouse was so different from Marcus – she only saw the big picture and left the small details, like the lives of one or two people, out. So they would track a demon (most commonly someone in an old alcoholic or a homeless hag) interrogate them and try to perform an exorcism. Tomas soon learned to get into their heads without invitation, and though the sights there left him borderline sick, he'd get some valuable information. If the exorcism worked, they would just pick up and leave. If not, Mouse would shoot the host. And so they climbed up the ranks in hopes of finding the source of the infestation. The missions got more complicated when their targets became well known and respected citizens.

During those six months Tomas learned to use guns and hate them.

In the still hours of the night, alone in his motel room Tomas would think of the joy of turning his head to the side and seeing Marcus sprawled on the nearby bed, snoring. The old songs from Marcus' cassette player rang in his head even now, after all these months.

In the dark room they kept him in, he wanted more than ever, to feel the warm and safe pressure of Marcus' hand on his neck...but Marcus wasn't there. And neither was Mouse. They had separated upon the attack two days ago, so Tomas didn't even know if she was still alive. The ambush had been brutal and well planned, so they ended up separated like sheep and herded in different directions. Despite her harsh manner and tendency to overlook human emotions, she was not a bad person...just a little hardened, and Tomas hoped she was alright. Alive, at least.

The darkness of his cell was suddenly ripped to shreds by a bright light flooding through the doorway.

"Good morning, father." a demon smiled pleasantly "I'm happy to tell you, that today you'll have the pleasure of meeting a very important lady. Be nice."

"Hello, my dear." Said a soft, almost purring voice of a tall red haired woman. She swayed into the cell smiling broadly "I hope you're comfortable here. If not, I'll be happy to find you a more suitable environment."

With those words she laid a hand on Tomas forehead and his eyes rolled back.

 _He woke up in a motel room, music playing quietly in the small kitchen area. Marcus was standing there, with his old jeans and worn shirt, a tea towel over his shoulder. His hips moved from side to side slowly in rhythm to the music. Tomas got up and edged to his mentor slowly, unable to believe he was lucky enough to see him again._

 _"Morning." Marcus said turning towards him with a smile "I'm making English breakfast, I promised you back in Chicago. We have eggs this time."_

 _"Marcus?" Tomas asked hesitantly, almost trembling on the spot. When the taller man turned, his expression instantly filled with worry._

 _"Tomas, love, what's the matter?" hands were on his face, warm and rough, just like he remembered "Are you alright?"_

 _"I...I think. I can't remember what happened yesterday. Where are we?"_

 _"Rhode Island. And I'm not surprised, you had two beers yesterday. It's a wonder you're up and about..." Marcus smiled cheekily and pecked the corner of his lips before turning way. Tomas froze, blush spreading all over his face. When there was no comment Marcus turned back at him and smiled even wider "Well now, I think the eggs can wait. You look much more appetizing."_

 _Without warning Marcus' lips were on his, hot and demanding, making his knees quiver. His mouth fell open to ask what was going on, but the other man's tongue slithered in and made him forget all logic. God, how badly he wanted this...he didn't even know it himself before this moment. Desperately Tomas clutched at Marcus' shoulders and pulled himself closer, pushing their chests together._

 _"My, my, aren't we eager this morning" Marcus whispered into his ear before licking the shell lazily and trailing kisses down Tomas neck. A small involuntary sound left the priest's lips when Marcus started to suck the pulsing veins in his throat._

 _"M...Marcus...Oh Lord..."_

 _"It's alright kitten, c'mere" the older man whispered, pulling Tomas by the hem of his jeans and squeezing his ass lightly. "I'll take care of you."_

 _Tomas didn't need to be told twice. He pressed his half hard member into Marcus' hip and moaned at the friction, humping the hard bone there despite the shame. He just couldn't stop, it felt too good..._

 _"Oh dear, what a dirty boy you are...Humping my leg like a filthy little whore...What would the Archbishop say?"_

 _Tomas froze on the spot, trembling with the effort to keep still and think. Something was not right...Marcus would never say these things to him, not in that mocking, vicious tone. He looked up to see two copper eyes gleaming down on him and tired to back away._

 _"No. NO. No no no. Get off me!"_

 _"What's the problem, kitten? You loved it just a second ago..." the demon looked down at him, contorting Marcus' face into a cutting smile._

 _"You are not Marcus! Get away from me, unclean spirit!"_

 _"I'm afraid, that's as good as it's going to get, dear father. Do you think Marcus would ever dare to sully you? To take away the last bit of virginity you have left? That part IS still virgin, yes, kitten?" the demon sneered and squeezed Tomas' ass tighter, even when the priest started to struggle. Marcus' face buried itself in Tomas' neck and licked a long stripe there, it made the young priest positively sick. With all energy he had left he tried to break the demon's hold on the dream, but couldn't. It was too strong, and fake Marcus was groping him lower and lower...but suddenly the demon's hold broke all on its own..._

And Tomas opened his eyes in the dark room. The demon was walking away, with a sneer on her face.

"What is it? You interrupted my fun!" she hissed at one of the guards.

"I'm sorry my lady, but the old wolf is coming closer and closer to finding the truth. He nearly caught two of our operatives yesterday in D.C."

"Archer? He still hasn't given up?" she pinched the bridge of her nose theatrically "Well, then let's push his superiors to offer him an early pension...or early grave if he doesn't stop digging. Poor Jonathan, he must be lonely to have that much time for work...Make sure to correct that error."  
The red haired woman just smiled cruelly at her servant and turned back to Tomas.

"Now, my dear father, we'll continue on that note some other time. I'll give you a moment to stew on those thoughts and maybe play with yourself a bit." with those parting words she took off, heels clicking on the tile floor.

Then he was left all alone in the dark, but erotic thoughts were the last thing on his mind. He may have found his way out.

The next hour or so Tomas stayed very still, trying to concentrate. A cell was not exactly the best place for meditation (and he really hated to call it that) but it was necessary. His gift required taming and control, so this practice of concentration and mind gymnastics was the only thing that really helped. Mouse was never a fanatic about her faith – she was more of a soldier than a nun at the moment – so it did not bother her, that he indulged in what was more associated with Buddhism than Catholicism. Meditation gave him stability, sometimes in a way that even prayer couldn't. He prayed daily, of course - before the practice, usually, but the voice of God still evaded him. At least directly.

A couple of months back he developed an ability to find people in the spirit world by name alone. The ability still required some refinements, although that didn't make it any less effective, just slower. If he knew how they looked like, it helped...but this time he will have to go without the visuals. It was his only chance to get himself out of here.

 _Jonathan Archer._

 _Jonathan Archer._

 _Jonathan Archer._

Tomas thought over and over, concentrating on the name. He stepped into the spirit world and allowed the flow of information filter through him. In the dreamscape frames from the lives of various jonathans archers flew by his eyes. There was slim chance to pick the right one, but he had to try.

An elderly man playing with his granddaughter in the yard. No.

A fellow around fifty, labeling books and putting them into shelves neatly, then rolling away with a library cart. No.

A boy around fifteen, playing video games on his couch. No.

A man sitting in front of a desk full of photographs. People with their eyes missing, mutilated bodies with gaping holes in the midsection...'That might be the one' Tomas thought with a shudder. 'What a horrible job to have. Then again, who am I to judge?'

Shivering lightly with exhaustion he reached out to the consciousness behind the frame.


	2. Chapter 2

Well, here's the second chapter. The lengths may vary, so this one is a bit shorter. The story has taken a life of its own by now and decided to take up permanent residence in my head. I cannot guarantee where this will end up, so join me for the ride :D

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The same day the ferry brought two silent men out of the island and towards an unknown future. Jonathan seemed to plan something and Marcus was still a bit grumpy, so the ride ended up being very uncommunicative and equally uneventful. They did go to the shopping district that same day, the agent bought himself new boots and bullied Marcus into picking up three warm sweaters, some new socks and a fur lined jacket.

Next stop was the car. Archer sold his fairly decent Volvo sedan without any visible regrets and Marcus' anger was slowly dissipating into disbelief and borderline admiration. It was shocking and slightly unnerving to watch someone methodically deconstruct their life without batting an eye.

"You sure you want to sell it? It's your car after all... Might just rent a parking spot..."

"It's just a car, Marcus. We change shitload of them over our lives and I really don't intend to come all the way back here just to pick up my car. I'll get a new one back home."

"Your call." the priest relented, because it really was the other man's money, so - his decision. What came as a surprise, however, was Jonathan's request to help him pick their new car. 'We're both going to use it after all' the agent had said simply and asked what Marcus may want to be there. After a moment of consideration the exorcist decided he cannot go without a working heater and enough leg room. It earned him a low chuckle.

"Do you intend to live in it?" Archer asked shaking his head in disbelief. He wrote down the two conditions anyway.

"Just might. Never know when it'll come in handy." Marcus grumbled but still felt his own lips tug up at the corners. No matter how bad the situation, it felt slightly better to have someone to bicker with. Someone to walk beside him with the same goal in mind. When had he become so accustomed to company?

Eventually they picked a remarkably unassuming ten years old grey Subaru hatchback. Four wheeler. It was Jonathan's only condition.

That was when the problems began.  
Two relative strangers trapped in a small, confined space for long periods of time are not exactly the most pleasant of circumstances. Marcus managed to travel with Tomas because they were already a unit when they left...and Tomas was by far more talkative. Sitting in the warm car and watching the roadside slide past them Marcus remembered doing the same with Tomas. Just sitting in the car, listening to the younger man complain about too loud music, tell silly stories about his family and funny happenings at his former parish on better days. On worse days they just sat in silence or prayed together. The thoughts clenched his heart in an iron fist, forcing his eyes to burn.

They were moving towards Alaska in breakneck speed already, but somehow it still seemed too slow for the former priest.

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After twenty hours of nonstop driving both men were exhausted and the roads were getting slippery, so they decided to stop. Roadside motel had barely ten small rooms and they were lucky to get the last one with two beds. Unfortunately that was the only good thing about the room – otherwise it was ugly, cold and smelled of disinfectant floor wash.

Jonathan went to shower first and Marcus made himself comfortable on the bed with his back to the headboard and a small bible in hand. He started to sketch in it with no real goal in mind.

"I'm no expert, but that looks like you're desecrating a bible..." said a voice to his left. Marcus didn't even hear the other man come in and now snapped his head up instantly but instead of reaching his face, the priest's gaze got stuck at shoulder level. Archer was naked from the waist up and a large patch of mauled scar tissue covered his right shoulder, extending all the way into chest area. Marcus froze and Jonathan instantly moved away to dig in his suitcase for a t-shirt. Dragging it over his head the agent turned back:

"Sorry about that. It's been a long while since I shared personal space with another human being...so I sort of forgot. It won't happen again."

"Don't bother on my account." Marcus tried to sound light hearted "I have more scars on this old wreck of a body then I'd care to count."

The agent smiled a little, but still proceeded to get dressed, more likely because of the cold. Marcus fidgeted on the bed. After years and years of trying to see through people by looking at their possessions, actions and simplest of words he just couldn't stop himself from asking:

"What did that?...if you don't mind me asking? I've seen nothing like it before..." the exorcist trailed off when his companion froze mid movement. There was something behind the scar and the bloodhound in Marcus wanted to dig it up, but he also realized he's barging into private territory without any real reason to do it.

"A shrapnel grenade." The dark haired man said calmly and clearly, but did not elaborate.

"Where the fuck did you manage to find a shrapnel grenade in the land of the free?" Marcus cringed internally at his own forwardness. It was out of his mouth before he ever realized he was talking. 'Well shit.' Jonathan turned towards him with a strange, almost appraising look on his face. Marcus expected anger, to be told to back the hell off, but instead the man was looking at him like he was a rare kind of animal.

"You don't know how to do anything by halves, do you? If something catches your attention you just have to dig it up."

"Jonathan...I..." he didn't really know how to apologize, never had much practice. Looking up with trepidation he saw an uncharacteristically wide smile on the other man's face. It left the exorcist dumbstruck.

"Don't be sorry. It's an admirable trait." Jonathan said looking straight at Marcus without any animosity "Though it can be pretty damn annoying as a side effect. If you have to know, I found it in Afghanistan, almost fourteen years ago."

"Afghanistan? You were in the army?"

"Navy. Third SEAL team. Sometimes it seems like I never left. My first Senior Chief would always say, that men like us are like wolfs, we don't change our skin. A soldier is a soldier 'till the day he dies, in general."

That was a hard truth Marcus could sympathize with. He knew it was the same for him – even if sometimes the desire for it to be otherwise overwhelmed him. The face of Peter rose before his eyes for a moment. They could have been so normal together...the problem was, that Marcus never knew how to be normal and when you're over fifty it's a bit too late to learn.

Without another word the former priest returned to scratching patterns into the thin pages of his bible and the sailor went about his evening routine. Only Marcus really couldn't stop himself from following the quick, efficient movements of his new companion and wonder how he didn't see it before? The clipped, straightforward manner of speech, natural inclination towards order (the suitcase was impeccably packed and the clothes folded neatly, he poked his nose in) and remarkable endurance (the bastard didn't complain once throughout nearly twelve hours of driving) should have told him all he needed to know. Marcus mulled the new knowledge in his head almost lazily until Jonathan decided to pull a handgun out of his bag and, after checking the bullets and safety, unceremoniously put it on his nightstand. Blue eyes fixated on the gun almost involuntarily and a shiver ran up the exorcist's spine. He hadn't seen a gun in over six months, not after...

"I'm going to bed. If you feel like showering, better wait half an hour, the heater's shit."

"Right." Marcus said stiffly and pretended to scratch away with the pencil. His eyes stayed on the gun for long minutes before Jonathan decided to roll over, already fully asleep, and give Marcus a lovely sight of his body, stretched out with hands above his head. For lack of better distractions the ex-priest turned a blank page and started to draw. That was the first time Marcus drew Jonathan.

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Jonathan Archer woke up to the sound of screaming. In the dark someone was moving around, trashing and yelling wildly. Without even fully waking he got out of bed and went straight to the nearby cot, grabbed the man in it by the shoulders and pushed him down as gently as possible, to avoid any injuries. It took a moment to realize he's not in the base back in Afghanistan and the man beside him is not a fellow marine. He was in a cheap motel with a strange man, who was supposed to be a priest, but habitually acted more like a street thug.

Soon the screaming gave way to loud, heart wrenching sobs and the body in his hands started to shake uncontrollably. He didn't even bother to try and wake the other man up, just pulled him against his chest and started to sway back and forth lightly, moving Marcus' body with him. By experience it was best to let them ride it out. It was an unspoken rule among soldiers of all kinds to hold each other through these episodes and never mention it in the morning. PTSD induced night terrors were common amongst war survivors - they all had enough shit to deal with. But Marcus was not a soldier, and yet here he was, howling and trashing like any other poor bastard, who survived a war or two. He knew, that Marcus was a rare kind of priest – an exorcist, Tomas had told him that much, but what this occupation entails he had no idea. Nothing good by the look of it. There were scars on the priest's hands and shoulders, Jonathan noticed them right away, but the story imprinted so cruelly into the other man's skin was not his to question.

When the sobs finally died down Archer laid Marcus back onto the pillow and covered him up before returning to his own bed. Unfortunately he didn't get much time to fall back asleep.

In less than ten minutes Marcus was screaming again.

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Marcus opened his eyes slowly in the dark and closed them back. There wasn't much difference anyway. He was surprisingly warm and cosy, though the hotel room had been viciously cold in the evening. 'Maybe they turn the heat on only at night?' There was something else out of place, but in his half conscious state he couldn't pinpoint it. 'A hand.' There's a hand wrapped around his waist and something warm and solid pressed into his back. All alarm bells started to ring in his head making the ex-priest squirm violently against the hold, but the arms around him only tightened reflexively.

"Hush, hush..." came the drowsy voice of his new travel companion "Christ, how many times are we gonna do this, sweetheart...?"

"Archer?! What the hell are you doing in my bed!?" Marcus yelled in a bit of panic.

"Marcus?! You're awake?" Jonathan's voice was still drowsy but laden with disbelief.

"What are you doing in MY FUCKING BED?" Marcus growled angrily getting himself out of the hold and away from the other man.

"You don't remember anything?" Jonathan asked mildly, his voice quiet in hopes to seem less threatening. It was his mistake after all.

"What's that supposed to mean? I went to bed and woke up to your sorry arse on my mattress!" 'holding me from behind like a friggin' bride' he added in his head, but had enough sense not to say it out loud.

"Did you know you have night terrors?" the brunette asked ignoring the ranting. He stayed very still, though, with his hands on the mattress, to make sure Marcus could see him at all times.

"Nightmares?" the exorcist asked, anger slowly giving way to confusion and a threat of embarrassment. "Don't we all?"

"No, not nightmares, night terrors. There's a difference." Jonathan explained slowly "When it's a nightmare you're just having a bad dream, then you wake up, realize it was just a dream and go back to sleep. Night terrors are different."

"Yeah? I don't see how..." Marcus started to feel dread rising up his spine. 'What did I do?' he thought desperately, both needing and dreading to find out what the hell just happened.

"When someone's having an episode they're eyes are open, people get out of bed, start running around or trashing on the bed...Talking, yelling and crying are common. Sometimes aggressive behaviour...but the thing is, the person was never awake in the first place, they're still dreaming. When the fit ends they just...fall back asleep and usually don't remember anything in the morning."

"Is that what happened?" Marcus asked swallowing thickly. The desire for the ground to swallow him whole was growing by the second.

"Yes. You had three...no, four fits in the last two hours. After the last one...I suppose I just fell asleep along with you. It was my mistake, and I'm sorry to have frightened you."

" 's fine." tawny blonde said quietly, scrubbing his hands over his face slowly. That way he at least didn't have to look at the other man "Maybe this whole traveling together was not the brightest idea..."

"Hey, no jumping to conclusions, okay? Did this happen before?"

"How am I supposed to know? Tomas never said anything, so it wasn't there half a year ago."

"Okay. For adults there are two main causes for night terrors, that's excessive drinking - which you have no problem with – or post traumatic stress. I'd bet my money on the second one." When Marcus stayed quiet Jonathan continued as gently as he knew how "You were yelling something about Andy...and then your father. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to...but it may help to lessen the fits."

A couple of minutes passed in silence, with Marcus staring at the sheets stubbornly, before the agent got up and went back to his own bed. Only when he laid down did the older man started to speak quietly.

"Our last case was in the island you found me in. The home of Andrew Kim, Andy...and his children. They were such good people...But the demon was too strong, and it threatened to take Tomas along with Andy, so I...I couldn't let it have him..."

"You shot Andrew Kim." it was not a question "Tomas told me a bit about him. I read the file. All he said then was 'we had no other choice', so initially I didn't know which one of you did it."

"He was a good man..."

"I know. And I'm sorry you had to do it." after a moment of hesitation Jonathan dared to ask another question on the tip of his tongue "What does this had to do with your father?"

The agent expected another long pause, or complete silence altogether. Instead a bitter, quiet laughter filled the room mixed with the chocked sound of unshead tears.

"I shot him too" Marcus said almost jovially, through the sound of controlled breathing. "See, I just keep shooting people. I'm a natural fucking murderer."

"No one shoots their own parents if they have other choice." Jonathan said quietly after a moment of shocked silence. It was not what he had expected and honestly...what can you say to that?

"Oh I did have a choice – the door was right in front of my nose, I could've just run..." he said smiling a ghastly, quivering smile. It made Archer almost desperate to just go over there and make sure he wouldn't do anything stupid, but the man stayed put "But my mum's body was still twitching not five meters away and he just kept coming closer with those big bloody hands...so I took the rifle off the hook and pulled the trigger. Didn't even aim properly...I was seven years old...I...I need to get out of here..."

Marcus jumped out of bed and started to blindly head for the door before Jonathan got in his way.

"Move." the exorcist grunted in a quivery voice. "I need to go."

"Okay...okay." Jonathan lifted his hands, palms up in a soothing gesture, but didn't move. "If you need to go, go. But dress warmly and come back before noon. We're still half way to Alaska, and Tomas is waiting for us, yeah?"

"Yeah." the ex-priest said after taking a few shaky breaths. His hands have mostly stopped shaking, though he still looked jagged and on the brink of panic attack.

Jonathan watched the older man robotically pulling on his clothes before he disappeared through the door. Only then did the agent fall back on his own bed, hands over his face.

"Fucking brilliant. And what will I do if he decides to jump off a fucking bridge? Good job, Archer. You always had the finesse of an elephant in a porcelain shop." he said to no one in particular. The room seemed even colder and emptier now.

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 _Drip_  
 _GOD, THE FATHER OF HEAVEN, have mercy on us._  
 _Drip_  
 _GOD THE SON, REDEEMER OF THE WORLD, have mercy on us._  
 _Drip_  
 _GOD THE HOLY GHOST, have mercy on us._  
 _Drip_  
 _HOLY TRINITY, ONE GOD, have mercy on us._  
 _Drip_  
 _HOLY MARY, pray for us._  
 _Drip_  
 _HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, pray for us._  
 _Drip_  
 _HOLY VIRGIN OF VIRGINS, pray for us._  
 _Drip_  
 _ST. MICHAEL, pray for us._  
 _Drip_  
 _ST. GABRIEL, pray for us._  
 _Drip_  
 _ST. RAPHAEL, pray for us._  
 _Drip_  
 _ALL YE HOLY ANGELS AND ARCHANGELS, pray for us._  
 _Drip..._

Litany of the Saints was the only thing keeping him hooked to this world these days. It reminded Tomas of his purpose, of his calling...and of Marcus.  
It's been days, but no one has come to save him. Tomas honestly could not blame Mouse if she chose to leave him here, even if she was still alive. It was an impossible mission to save him alone, and Mouse has always been logical, so she would not risk getting caught – there are so few of them left after all. Agent Archer seems to believe him now – after days of endless convincing - but Tomas is too tired to try and contact him again in the spirit world. 'If God wills it, the man will find me.'

The constant dripping noise in the cell was annoying the first two days, now it's sort of soothing. Demons come and go...They feed him, water him and generally leave him alone. Tomas has never seen that many of them, but the red haired lady comes only once a day or so, it's hard to tell time. She burrows into his head trying to bend him, and he does the same to her, hoping to find traces of the host. There was none so far and he's never seen that before. Even the integrated ones are always hiding somewhere in the corner of their own mind, but her host just seems empty, although the demon fills the silence well enough. He remembered the last conversation too clearly:

 _"Tell me, father, what our purpose is, do you think?" she asked sweetly, sitting beside him in the cell, but what he saw in his mind's eye was a large river, going through an old town. The river banks had stone benches and they sat on one of them._

 _"You want what you always want, the ruination of souls, filthy spirit. Now tell me your name, in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit..."_

 _"None of that, dearest, there is no point." she reprimanded and his voice got stuck in his throat. 'She could kill me here, in the spirit world' Tomas realized with a shudder 'but apparently that's not the plan'."We don't need to help people to ruin themselves, they do fine on their own. There are plenty of thieves and murderers and rapists upon this planet. There's a reason why it's a "stairway to heaven" and a "highway to hell", darling, we have enough traffic."_

 _"What is it you do want? The fall of the Church?" Tomas asked angrily when his voice was finally functioning again._

 _"In a way. Don't you think it should fall? To be replaced with something better? Your precious church has done more harm than good to the people – it created endless wars, allowed carnage and ruination in many lands...and even now it divides the community. Look..." the demon said pointing out towards a couple walking hand in hand on the river bank. A young woman clutched the man's elbow and kissed him on the cheek. Tomas stared at the affectionate embrace for a moment before turning back towards the red lady._

 _"Sweet, isn't it?" she asked gently "Don't you think all people deserve that? Love, the chance to walk hand in hand?"_

 _"Of course they do! What is this, demon? Why are you showing me this?"_

 _"Aren't you jealous, dear father? Your God has forbidden you from happiness like this. He is a possessive lover, you see. If he likes something, he wants to keep it all to himself. Do you think you would ever be allowed to walk hand in hand like that with someone, anyone? For example your beloved old Lion?"_

 _"I chose to give my life to God and be his in body and soul. It is my choice to make." Tomas argued weekly. He knew he's bluffing, so did the demon._

 _"And how is that working out for you, father?" she asked, smiling a wide, toothy grin. Red lips contrasted with pale skin almost painfully to the priest's eyes. Tomas felt his face burn. He was weak in his need of love, the desire to be valued, praised, loved...It was his primary sin, the one he kept repeating, sometimes even unconsciously. He wanted to be loved by Jessica, to be held in high regard by Marcus...Adamantly looking straight in front of himself Tomas stayed quiet._

 _"Thought so." the demon added mildly, but never loosing the smile. Tomas had never fought a demon like this – with a debate. "He's a bit of a sadist, daddy dearest, the ones he loves most suffer the greatest pain. You'd think he would give his favourites - the most loyal ones - a happy life, full of love and peace, but no...he torments them and breaks them in every way imaginable just to step in at the last second and save them from the suffering he himself created..."_

The words still rang in his mind, even after hours have passed. He knew that demons lie, but some part of him thought there may be a grain of truth in those words. Most saints he knew about were martyrs after all...Then he thought of Marcus, God's loyal fighter, someone who has given Him everything, who gave up the hopes of having a home, even a parish, family, friends, happiness...just to have demons spit and scream in his face every day. Marcus, who had suffered so much, and yet remained the gentlest person Tomas has ever known. 'Has Lord purposefully tormented him so?' It was a terrifying thought, so he pushed it away and tried to concentrate on the present, as dull and dreary as it was.

The cell has one window, high up, by the ceiling. From his spot on the ground Tomas couldn't see anything but light - a dull and bleary one. It never changes, day or night, the light stays the same. And the dripping sound, that also stays the same. 'They really need to fix the pipes.' He hit his head back against the wall with a hollow thud and closed his eyes...until someone from the other side of the wall hit back.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three knocks in rapid succession. Tomas' eyes flew open instantly and he turned towards the sound. Could it be that someone else is suffering his fate? That he's not alone in this grey prison? He hesitated only for a moment before lifting his knuckles to the wall.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Next came a short rhythm and Tomas repeated it back to whomever was on the other side of that wall. Even if he could not see them, or even properly talk to them, at least he felt less lonely.

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I'll try posting a third chapter as soon as I can. Maybe Mouse will come around to say hi ^.^


	3. Chapter 3

One more chapter of my hallucinations. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

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 _2 days after Tomas' kidnapping_

Mouse was in a cemetery. Hopefully she was the only living person here, but there was no guarantee. Picking the mausoleum lock was relatively easy and inside it was warmer and dryer than outside. Her head hurt terribly, though the wound there was not all that big and already healing, it just bled unstoppably. She had lost her bag, her stock of bullets, her car and Tomas on top of it all.

"Wonderful. Just wonderful." she said to no one in particular, looking up and down the little crypts wearily.

Her gun had three bullets left in it and besides an old cell phone and even older medallion - that was her entire fortune. Any other time she would have just walked to the closest church or monastery and asked for shelter, but now the church cannot be trusted anymore, so she knew she'll have to look for friends elsewhere. That was the plan all along, so nothing changed, except the deadline. She needs help now.

For a long while Mouse had tried to find some purchase for a broader plan of action and it led her to the only community, which bothered to listen - conspiracy theorists. She internally cringed at the memory of contacting one dumb arsehole after another. The goal was to try and pick the ones with at least not cringe worthy credentials...or the ones, whose credentials she couldn't find at all. The often infuriating search had led her to a fair share of closeted university professors, too frightened to speak in their own name, let alone step out into the field, an assortment of religious fanatics, an elusive hacker by the name Vertgo and a few exorcists, who were not of catholic faith. It didn't bother her in the slightest. Anyone able to blast away a demon is an ally in this situation. So now she had to contact two of her most promising candidates - a martial arts teacher in Idaho and the hacker...wherever the hell he was. Mouse had other options to fall back upon, but with the church on her trail it was best to contact fewer people, for their safety as well as her own.

Pushing the throbbing pain in her head away in favour of a sharp focus the brown haired woman turned on her phone and discreetly wrote two messages before turning it back off. She could sleep in the crypt for a few more hours before checking for answers.

Tomas was the one thing that truly bothered her. Mouse had been stranded before, she knew how to survive...but the young priest under her care was still new to this. And he was currently alone with the enemy. Over the last half a year she begrudgingly became fond of the stubborn, idealistic martyr, that was Tomas Ortega...and didn't want to think of him with a second pupil in his eye. He was talented, the boy. Reckless, but talented - like a homemade bomb. Too powerful for his own good and with a fuse too short for comfort, but she liked him anyway. One of her first priorities will be to find him, if she manages to stay alive herself.

The crypt walls were grayish brown in colour and there was only one bench, made of stone, unfortunately...so cold as seventh hell. Still, Mouse had no other choice but to lay down and try to fall back asleep despite the headache blooming behind her eyes. The longer she lay there, the harder it was not to think, to stop her brain from processing possible outcomes, plans, goals...losses. Tomas may still be retrievable, but Devon has by far less chances. It's been half a year since she left him in the hospital only to come back and find the bed empty. They got to him...or he escaped, but she knew there's a fat chance of that. The footage was deleted and the personnel had suffered a loss of one nurse, so all odds were against him escaping. Mouse stared up at the greyish stone and remembered clearly a man, who was mildly insulted at her not calling him her friend, despite the fact she actually started to like him. Devon was kind, uptight and fastidious idiot, but she enjoyed his dry humour and devotion to the cause. Look where it ended for him. Down under the rigorous training not to care she had put herself through, Mouse still hoped he was alive, human and fighting his own battles somewhere. Even if she could never see him again, so long as he was fine, she wouldn't mind. The same thought extended to Marcus. He may or may not bounce back from this blow, but just knowing he's there, somewhere, breathing was a happy thought.

After long minutes of listening to crows outside in the cemetery she finally managed to fall asleep.

Five hours later the nun woke and cursed colourfully at the pain in her back. Sleeping on stone was not meant for the living. She gingerly sat up and turned her phone on to check for replies, but before even opening the right page her phone rang. Mouse froze mid movement. No one knew her phone number and there was a good chance it's a trap, but she still decided to take the chance. There was little left to lose.

"Hello? Who's speaking?" Mouse asked in a level voice.

"Not your friend, if that hasn't changed in the last few months." said a familiar voice she had almost gave up hope ever hearing again.

"Devon?" the woman asked incredulously before catching herself and schooling he voice into polite detachment "If this is you, how can you prove your identity?"

"You still are militant beyond belief. Very well, but let's keep it short for safety. You made me into a murderer, twice, Mouse. First one was sister Delores, I have plunged a syringe with holy water into her heart and the second one was the nurse in that hospital you decided to leave me in. She was possessed. It took me months to get back to my former position and track you down. Now make your choice, will you trust me enough to meet me, or not."

"Meet you? Where are you?"

"Not too far away from where you are now. Your distress call was the reason I decided to come back into contact. However I chose not to come straight to you, lest you decided to shoot me on the spot."

"How do I know it's not a trap? " the nun asked suspiciously, but despite it hope was already prickling in her fingers and toes.

"You don't until you meet me in person. I will undergo any tests you find necessary."

It took Mouse less than a few seconds to make up her mind. Even if it was a trap, she had dealt with demons before and can do it again.

"The west exit in five minutes. Can you make it? " she asked resolutely.

"Yes, I'll be there, in a car, waiting for you."

"Good. " With that confirmation Mouse hung up and gathered herself for the upcoming meeting, whichever way it may go.

The SUV was black and imposing, but the back seat was empty and Devon sat in the driver's seat. Alone. He seemed well, no three piece suit, but a dress shirt and a sweater - bit less formal.

"Hey." she said standing a couple of meters away from the open car window.

"It's been a while. You look awful. " Devon commented giving her a once over.

"Polite as always." she allowed herself to smile a little, then turned serious. She had no holy water on her to test him, no crosses or anything else. "Do you have a cross anywhere?"

"Just my rosary." he said pulling out the beads from his pocket. He was able to hold it well enough.

"How about a bible?"

"In the glove compartment. I will take it out now." and he did pop the small compartment open and pulled a small black leather bound book. Before Devon had the chance to show her the contents something small prickled her skin and she turned around to find a man aiming a gun at her. Mouse's hands lifted the gun up automatically, but her vision got blurry and she dropped to the ground before firing.

"Took you long enough." commented the demon wearing a suit of Devon Bennett "How long does the sedative work?"

"A couple of hours." answered a burly dark haired man. He picked the nun up without problem and dropped her on the back seat like a sack of potatoes.

"More than enough. Hurry up Harry."

Almost three hours later Mouse slowly woke to the horrible realization she couldn't move her hands. Her feet were more or less free, but it amounted to nothing when she tried to get up from the seated position. With her vision still bleary she took in her surroundings - an abandoned apartment, or maybe a house. Traffic noise distant, but present, windows boarded up, one corner of the ceiling leaking. It took her a good minute to notice the quiet figure standing in the corner, waiting and observing.

"Hey, come out here you filthy abomination!" she shouted in anger both towards him and herself.

"What a way to greet an old friend. It took you long enough to come around, Mouse." Devon stepped out of the shadows and when the light hit his face the nun could clearly see one eye was black and the other gold. Integrated. 'Well shit.' Mouse swore to herself but kept her outer face as impassive as possible.

"What do you want? If you expect cooperation, think again! I command you, unclean spirit, whoever you are, along with all your minions now attacking this servant of God, by the mysteries of the incarnation, passion, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ..."

She didn't get to finish when a fist from her right connected with her jaw. It hurt like hell and her ears rang, but Mouse kept going:

" ...by the descent of the Holy Spirit, by the coming of our Lord for judgment, that you tell me by some sign your name, and the day and hour of your departure."

Demon cringed a little but instead of moving away, he grabbed something off an old bed and strode closer. The dirty rag was forced between her lips and bound tightly at the back.

"That's better. Now we can talk in peace. I have an offer for you, fair lady, if only you would listen. We are here, whether you like it or not and the war you expect to fight is already over. You lost, I'm afraid. There are two options left for you - to acknowledge the winners and take your place among us, or to die with the outdated church."

When Mouse tried to kick him the demon only chuckled and came closer. She had no way to fight him off with words or otherwise.

"Now, let's not be hasty. First listen to my offer. This old fool has a soft spot for you, he really did like you, you should know. So I will offer you the choice of joining me in this path to rearrange the world to our liking. It will not be a bad world, I can promise you. And we are trying to get your lot to join us. You are powerful warriors, just misguided by a bad general. If given the right leadership, you could flourish. Your god and church uses you like dogs, we keep our best in high regard. Alas, you are mistrustful folk, as you have proven today, so we need someone human to talk them round, make them see the glorious, powerful Church we could build together. So...I thought you have a vast enough network and sharp enough tongue to get the job done. We will reward you of course. The money and comforts are unquestionably yours, but there may be something else you want...something you wanted for many years..." the demon walked up even closer and slid his fingers down Mouse's neck, slowly and elaborately before reaching a small chain there. Her medallion - a rose locket with Benedictine medal inside - hung deep between her breasts. He pulled it out by the chain, but never touched the metal of the medallion itself.

"What a lovely gift he has given you, your beloved Marcus. All this time you may have convinced yourself you were running after demons but it was him you've been chasing, the love you lost. No matter how hard you tried to get it out of your system I can still smell it there. Last time he ran away, this time you could have him at your feet, or between your knees - whichever you prefer. Call him here, talk him into coming back to Church and we'll make sure he's all yours. What do you say?"

The demon split Devon's face into a big toothy grin. Mouse almost rolled her eyes, pointing down at the gag. She was currently occupied by trying to untie her hands behind the chair, so she had to play for time.

"Ah, of course."

Bennett's hands cut the rag in her mouth and kept the knife shining it in her face dangerously. But the woman ignored it as best she could:

"You are asking me to betray all my comrades."

"Yes."

"And expect me to agree to it?"

"If you know what's best for you. You are a clever woman, don't doom yourself...Otherwise I'll have no use for you, so I will be forced to skin your face right here in this old shabby house, and let you bleed out that way. It may take a long time for you to die, fair lady, or even lose consciousness...not a pleasant way to die. If I'm, merciful enough I may shoot you eventually, but I'm not known to be very soft hearted. Which offer did you like better?"

"I think I'll take the second one. The first was a bit boring." Mouse gritted out. She managed to get her hands free, now she just needs to get him closer somehow.

"We'll see if you change your mind after we start..." Devon spoke coming closer with the knife still in his hand. She was ready to jump, but instead of her face he reached his unarmed hand towards her neck. "I'll take this first. You do not deserve small comforts if you are so disagreeable."

Pulling on the chain he snatched the medallion off of her and it was enough to make Mouse move. She grabbed his hand with the knife and tried to wrestle it out of his grip, but the bastard was strong. Instead of pulling away he pushed closer and pressed the knife to her throat, nicking the skin deep enough. The sickening smell of blood filled her senses and adrenaline started to pump wildly in her veins. Mouse grabbed the hand and bit the wrist mercilessly, spitting out a good chunk of flesh. The demon howled and let the knife fall out of his fingers for a second. She grabbed it and cut the rope around her knees before jumping up to run. The blood was running down her jacket and over her chest, but she felt more focused than ever. Best option was the door right in front of her, but before she reached it demon grabbed her sleeve and pulled. Mouse pushed the clothing off of her shoulders and kept going through the door, down the stairs and into the arms of another demon. The big burly guy who shot her.

The bastard held her firmly and squeezed hard enough to make small black dots dance in her vision. That was the moment she heard the sirens. Police sirens were surrounding them outside the building. The blue and red lights danced on the walls and floors. It distracted the demon enough to allow her a good kick in his balls. Arms loosened around her and the woman ran towards the first opening in sight - a window leading to a smell side street. She jumped out and ran away from the police lights, no good to be caught by the autohrites. When she reached a bigger street another car, this time a beat up van, was waiting for her. Almost delirious from the loss of blood she threw herself to the other direction from the car before a voice called out to her:

"Miss Eleanor Westworth? I am here to pick you up. Courtesy of Vertigo. Get in." the young man behind the wheel seemed shabby, like a druggie or something of the sort, but she was losing blood fast and the demons were most likely on her trail. Without thinking too much Mouse jumped into the open door and collapsed in back of an old and smelly automobile. 'It smells like dogs.' she thought before passing out.

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Fifteen minutes past twelve in the afternoon Marcus was not back yet. Two packaged sandwiches sat untouched on the desk in the corner and Jonathan was pacing back and forth in the small space available between the furniture. A small sound caught his attention and the man instantly turned towards the doorway, but it was not the door, it was his phone, with a familiar number burning on the screen.

"Hello? Oddy?" Jonathan asked hesitantly instead of his usual way of answering phone calls with 'Archer'.

"Johnny boy, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?" asked the familiar voice of Cody "Oddy" Wilkins – a computer technician working for the bureau. One of the few people capable of bullying Jonathan into talking on daily bases.

"What are you on about? I'm on vacation." Jonathan said, hoping he sounds befittingly scandalized and not as worried as he was.

"Vacation my ass. The higher-ups just ordered me to track your phone calls and log your access to the database. Why have you been researching some missing priests and suicides near Seattle and what not?"

"Cody...It's complicated. " trying to trick that four-eyed nerd never ended well.

"Describe complicated? Preferably quickly."

"Okay, fine. There may be something really vast and dangerous at work, including some people in very important positions in the FBI, Government, Military, Church and so on. It's a God damn spider web and I might have pulled a string or two..."

"Fucking hell, Archer, you always manage to get your hands elbow deep into shit." the man on the other end of the line sighed, but continued in almost rapid-fire sort of way "Now listen here, don't use the database in your name anymore, when you hang up after this conversation, turn off your phone and get rid of the card. Or at least keep it off grid. Lose your car and anything that may make you easy to track on CCTV, got it?"

"Yes. Oddy? Thank you. I hope it doesn't come around to bite you in the ass." Jonathan whispered into the phone as honestly as he could before hanging up.

He was done shrugging off his coat and in the process of trashing the card when Marcus hesitantly stepped through the door with two cups of coffee in hand.

"Peace offering." he said uncharacteristically timidly, reaching the cups out "I would've picked up some beer or something, but thought it might be a bit early for that...and with all the driving..."

"Marcus." the blue eyed man instantly fell silent, looking at Archer like he's expecting to be kicked out or something close to it. "I'm glad you're back...and the coffee is actually better – I don't drink."

"What, at all?" Marcus asked incredulously, forgetting all about his discomfort.

"At all, it's bad for aim." Jonathan said, choosing the most neutral explanation. To avoid further discussion he threw his card away, grabbed the sandwiches and reached the top one to Marcus "Here, this one's yours."

"And why can't I have the other one?" the exorcist asked with a raised eyebrow. He felt enormously relieved to know that yesterday's night really changed nothing between them.

"You wouldn't want it. There's no meat in it."

In disbelief Marcus watched his new travel companion grab their bags, leave his coat on the bed and stride through the door. He couldn't help but comment:

"Are you a bloody monk?" the only answer was a deep laughter coming from the hallway.

All the way from the motel to the car Marcus knew something was off and the suspicions only grew stronger when he reminded Jonathan he left his coat in the room and got no answer. Archer also threw his phone card away and turned the gadget off. And now they were driving a little too fast for comfort.

"You mind telling me why we took off from that motel like our tail's on fire and now we're pushing ten miles past speed limit?" the exorcist asked briskly. Something was off and he needed to know what. Jonathan just threw a short glance his way and concentrated back on the road before speaking:

"I really am speeding. Sorry."

"Not an answer." Marcus reminded sternly. And added in a little lighter tone "So, what are we running from?"

"Do you remember I told you we have less than three weeks before I go back to work?"

"I do. What of it?"

"The time limit's extended. Indefinitely. I will not be going back to work." Jonathan explained completely tonelessly never taking his eyes off the road. There was a short moment of silence before Marcus asked:

"Why's that? You came to like life on the road?"

"Because apparently my own people decided to hunt me down like a rabid dog."

This time the silence lasted longer. Marcus sat there running all possibilities through his head. Could this be his fault? Maybe they are looking for Archer because he took Marcus with him? What else could this be?

"You better let me off. I can get to Alaska by myself and it ain't your problem, really..." he started and trailed off not sure how to continue. Travelling alone will be more complicated, but it's the right thing to do.

"I can if you want to, but I didn't peg you for the cowardly type." Jonathan said completely seriously.

"Cowardice has nothing to do with it. They are most likely hunting you because of me." Marcus hissed angrily.

"Oh, don't be so self important, sweetheart. This started a while before I met you, before I had the dreams, even. This day was coming - I just didn't expect it so soon."

"What are you on about?"

"This case I'm on, the demon case... when I was first assigned to it, I was given every resource possible, time, money and so on. But recently the management changed...and, quite frankly, I felt it the same day. They wanted this case dead and buried. Not only did I lose the funding, but reports from laboratories took weeks and evidence would mysteriously get misplaced or missing. The last straw was a day I had my first dream about Tomas. My superior called me up to offer me an early pension deal, with excellent health insurance, and a fair sum of money, all buttered up and so on. Then I knew something was seriously wrong."

"Could've taken it. It's a good deal, innit?"

"Fifty is a bit early to hang up one's boots, and I was never good at civilian life anyway...Also, that proposition alone made it clear I was on to something. If they are trying to stop me from poking, there is something to find. This thing runs deep, Marcus. It's not only the church and random possessed people. The influence extends to all areas of life – government, military, religion. I can't really piece it all together yet, but I will. Do you still want off?"

"I...No. No I don't. Why didn't you tell me all this sooner" Marcus demanded slightly derailed. All good humour was gone for good. Mouse had said a war is upon them, but he didn't expect an actual war, with more than just the church involved...

"Because I know you for less than two days and the occasion never arose? I thought I could get you to Tomas before this mess started, but apparently it's not going to work out that way."

"Apparently...so what now? If you don't wanna stop, how far do we go? What changes?"

"Nothing. We still go to Kaktovik. They have no idea where I am yet and without my phone card it's harder to track us. We'll stop at the nearest gas station and I'll cash as much money as I can. We'll be using cash from now on and I'd appreciate it if you could book motels under your name. There is no connection between us, so it will be harder to track."

"Fine. I'm starting to think this whole carousel was God's plan...or they are luring us into a big nasty trap. Demons may have sent you to deliver me as a gift, all wrapped up with a bow, without you even knowing it." – Marcus mussed, years and years of bad experience making him skeptical of everything. He drew his rosary out and started to fiddle with the beads, still lost in thought.

"Then why the hell are they hunting us down before I'm done with delivery service?"

"I don't know, but I guess we'll find out."

The uneasy silence lingered in the car, making it almost physically present, like extra gravity, until Marcus started to mumble quietly under his breath, still holding Mother Bernadette's rosary in his hands. Eyes closed and head slightly bowed down in prayer. Jonathan watched out of the corner of his eyes, not really familiar with praying - both his parents have never been religious despite technically being born Lutheran and Catholic. In a few minutes curiosity won out and he quietly asked:

"Marcus? Is this a prayer?"

"Yes." the priest said quietly, never opening his eyes. Archer felt it was rude to interfere, but couldn't help the curiosity.

"Does it have to be spoken quietly, or can you do it out loud?" this time the former priest lifted his face up incredulous and slightly annoyed.

"It can be spoken either way, but I didn't want to bother you. Now, could you please let me finish. Turn on the radio or whatnot..."

"Say it out loud."

"What?"

"I want to hear it. If it's not private. I've...I've never heard how you speak to your God, in my family it was a bit different...and we're sort of both in His service at the moment, so..." when the words were out Jonathan suddenly felt like a complete idiot. What has gotten into him? Trying to keep himself from banging his head on the steering wheel in shame the agent focused on the road and refused to look at Marcus.

"Right...well, it's a litany... The Litany of Resignation to the Will of God." Marcus said hesitantly, before resuming where he left off, not too loudly, but enough to pierce through the traffic noise.

"In all things and in all possible events,  
Thy Holy Will be done, O my God.

In all circumstances and disgraces,  
Thy Holy Will be done, O my God.

In my state and employment  
Thy Holy Will be done, O my God.

In my affairs and occupations,  
Thy Holy Will be done, O my God.

In all my actions,  
Thy Holy Will be done, O my God.

In my health and strength,  
Thy Holy Will be done, O my God.

In my body and soul,  
Thy Holy Will be done, O my God.

In my life and death,  
Thy Holy Will be done, O my God."

Marcus kept his pace slow and steady, practiced over years and years saying this particular litany. It was one of his favourite ones and saying it felt like home of a kind, until another, barely audible voice started to repeat the answering "Thy Holy Will be done, O my God" along with him. The priest heard it, but didn't dare to open his eyes, lest it break the fragile moment.

"Grant me Thy grace, O Father, that perfect resignation to Thy Holy Will may be with me, and labor with me, and continue with me to the end. Grant me always to desire and will that which is most acceptable to Thee and which pleaseth Thee best. Let Thy will be mine, and let my will always follow Thine and agree perfectly with it..."

Only halfway through the ending prayer Marcus dared to open his eyes to find Jonathan staring straight at the winding road before them. When the litany was done, the silence left behind bothered nether of the passengers.

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Well. that's it for this time. If you'll find any errors, please let me know and 'till next chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello my fellow fans of The Exorcist! Here we have another chapter of my babbling, I hope you'll find it at least mildly entertaining. This story might stretch out a bit, I'm trying to fit several story lines into one fic, so it's a bit of a mess, sorry ^.^

Right, here it is!

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Another bout of exhausting driving ended for two weary men in town Kaktovik – a surprisingly desolate and rural place. The town itself, if you could call it that, was very small and had only about 400 residents according to the plate. Mid October the temperature there was close to 9 F, so too cold for tourists and generally anyone in their right mind.

The tiny streets were decked in snow long since pressed to become ice and the few streetlamps they found in the permanent dusk did little to help. They passed by a small harbor with fishing boats and a couple of bigger ships docked. There were a couple of trucks too, but not many people - technically it was evening already. In eerie silence two men moved past house after house hoping to find some kind of motel.

Not surprisingly, there was no motel, just two proper shops, a school, city hall and something remotely resembling a bar. The very friendly native lady running one of the shops seemed to have a sort of guesthouse above it with two rooms for visitors, and offered to let them stay. Jonathan used his badge to introduce them as people sent to investigate the three murders in this small town. With a community as tight knit as this, three losses were a lot and people were grieving, so the old lady was more than happy to have them.

„ I'm so sorry, but one of the poor families has relatives staying over in the room with two beds, the other one has only a double bed in it..." She said apologetically, and looked up from the guest book to gauge their reactions. Marcus looked at Jonathan and wondered quietly what to do. If it was Tomas, he'd just smile and say they will take it, but with Jonathan, he wasn't sure how the other man will react. Silently the agent turned towards Marcus with question in his dark grey eyes. Marcus just shrugged nonchalantly and with a small nod from his travel companion answered for the both of them:

„ We'll take whatever you have to offer, so long as it's not outside."

„ Exactly. If you could find us separate blankets that would be more than enough." Jonathan added smiling at the lady reassuringly.

„ I will leave two blankets on it for you, officers. You will probably want to meet the local policemen?"

„ Perhaps later. We've been driving for hours and need to sleep before doing anything requiring brainwork." The brunette explained smiling. She led them up to a very cozy room with a big, warm looking bed. It had an actual pelt of some kind of animal on it. When Alasie, the lady, left their blankets and disappeared Marcus fell face forward into the fur – he was the last one driving.

„ No shower for you?" Jonathan asked in passing. He went about putting away their luggage and changing into sweats for sleeping.

„ Fuck shower, I'm going to sleep." Marcus mumbled half into the blanket. The exorcist was too tired to move, let alone participate in proper personal hygiene. There were times he could go three days without sleep just for fun, but those times were long gone. Now he only did it when on the job - the purpose of saving someone always gave him enough energy to do anything necessary. He felt that energy now, swirling under his skin along with bone deep weariness. Tomas is still out there, their job is not done, yet here they are.

„ And what if you smell?" Marcus could hear laughter hidden in the other man's voice and knew he was just poking, keeping him awake just for kicks. Bastard.

„ Piss off." this time a small chuckle was loud enough to be heard and the bed dipped beside him.

„ Move over, smelly." Jonathan said slapping the exorcist's leg lightly. Marcus begrudgingly scooted about three inches to the side and mumbled into the fur:

„ We shouldn't be here."

„ Meaning?" the other man questioned and took one of the blankets for himself.

„ Tomas is there, somewhere, still a captive and we participate in _beauty sleep._ " the tawny blonde hissed half angry with Jonathan, half with his own limited body.

„ Yes we should. It's a necessity after long hours of focused attention. And it's the middle of the night here, if we go around barging in now people will send us howling, you know that."

„ You think?! Just... He's my responsibility. I took him on, I trained him...not well enough it seems. Even if I _know_ we can't do much now, still hate sitting on our arses like this."

„ We'll find him, but we need to be in shape to actually save him when we do." Jonathan assured with good dash of sympathy. It was a familiar feeling. „ At least get under the fur, you'll freeze."

Grumbling Marcus forced himself to get up and shimmy out of his jeans before sliding back under the blanket and pelt both. The rooms were relatively warm, but he still shivered from head to toe between the cool linens and vaguely remembered the safe feeling of being held - just like the night before. Brushing it off he concentrated on keeping his limbs from shaking.

The warmer he got, however, the darker his thoughts became. What if Tomas is not even here? There is nowhere to hide a prisoner in a community this small - every traveller is logged and probably remembered for months...They need to find him fast, it's been days. After a long moment of silence the exorcist asked almost rhetorically:

„ Why here? There is nowhere to hide in a place this small...it's too small. Demons usually like the anonymity of overpopulated cities, why this place?"

„ Don't ask me. This is as far as I can take us. I don't know where in this town we'll find him...sort of hoped you will take over from here and...I don't know...feel where they are?"

„ Doesn't work that way."

„ How does it work?"

„ There are signs. Animals flocking together and acting unusually, aggression in humans, unexplained events and so on. I'll go digging about tomorrow morning while you speak to the coppers."

„ Define aggression. People are fully capable of being violent all by themselves."

„ Oh I know that...a bit too well. I mean a friendly seventeen year old girl ripping a man's jaw off. A twelve year old boy opening his classmate's ribcage barehanded. That kind of aggression." Marcus explained voice dripping with sarcasm.

„ So freakshows, then. Demonstrations of unnatural strength?"

„ More or less. Anything that's completely out of character for the person or just unnaturally violent." The weary man relented, slowly letting the anger drain away. There was no use to hold on to it for no real reason or target.

„ Right. At least I'll know what to look out for. Let's hope we'll find something to start with." both men fell silent after that, lying side by side and staring at the ceiling with large wooden beams.

„ Marcus?" Jonathan asked quietly when the other man was already half asleep „ If...if you have an episode again, what would you like me to do?"

„ Hmmm? What d'you mean 'to do'?"

„ Should I stay away and leave you to your own devices, or can I try to calm you down?" For a moment Marcus seemed to think about it and eventually decided, that even if it feels distinctly uncomfortable to rely on someone else for...care...he should allow it.

„ Just don't let me wake the other guests, yeah?" he said avoiding direct request for help.

„ Will do. 'Night Marcus."

„ Yeah, goodnight." He said quietly but didn't actually put any effort into falling asleep. Instead the former priest quietly spoke prayer after prayer for Tomas' safety, and for guidance.

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Next morning came as if someone had stolen the time in between the moment his eyes closed and opened again. Marcus slept without any disturbances and woke to a bleary light outside, just like he last remembered. The exorcist even doubted for a second, if he had slept at all, but his phone informed it was nearly ten in the morning and Jonathan was nowhere to be found. He got out of bed with purpose, dressed and even splashed some water on his face before heading down. What he did not expect was the racket of three small children playing in the kitchen along with their landlady cooking breakfast.

„ I was wondering when you'll come down." She said smiling at him brightly „ Your partner left about two hours ago to speak to the police. He didn't like my breakfast, I think..."

„ Morning. What did you give him?" Marcus asked smiling and winding his way through the toys on the floor and straight for the small table.

„ Suaasat „ she gestured towards a pot of soup. There were chunks of meat and something else in the thick broth, barely any vegetables visible. „Want it?"

„ What's in it?" Marcus couldn't help but ask.

„ Whale and seal and some herbs too. So, you want it?"

„ Well, I've never had a whale before, so yes." he said and grinned his most charming smile adding as an afterthought „ I think I know why my colleague didn't like it. He seems to be vegetarian..."

„ Then he won't find much to eat here!" She laughed kindly.

„ Who's children are these?" the exorcist questioned smiling at two boys and a girl playing on the floor.

„ These two are Kirima's and the older boy is Meriwa's. She is the one who lost her son, the older one. He was a good boy, smart and strong...her pain grieves us all."

„You know them well?"

„ Everybody here knows everybody well. We share our food, our children and our old." she said as if it's common sense and filled a wooden bowl with soup placing it in front of the man at the table. Marcus wondered for a moment what it must feel like to be part of such an interconnected community, like large beehive.

„ Was anyone in town acting strangely at the time of the deaths? Maybe some fellow had a row after row with his wife...Maybe some lady started to act promiscuously and out of character?" he asked in hopes to find some information to start with.

„ No, no one acted badly...At least I can't remember anything like it." the woman answered after a moment of thought.

„ Anyone new in town, then?" it was a long shot, but still worth trying. If this interrogation fails it's off with him into the snows, and that wasn't a very tempting thought. Even if his new jacket was warm it was not meant for this kind of winter, unlike Jonathan's hunter's jacket they bought back in Canada.

„ Besides you two and the strange priest? No one. There is a new brigade of scientists, but they come every year."

Every hair on Marcus's body stood up. A priest. Could it be? With his heard beating like a jackrabbit he dared to ask, as steadily as he could:

„ Maybe the priest was young man of Spanish descent? Black hair, brown eyes, rings a bell?"

„ No, no, it was a black man. Short and bundled up in a coat, with the collar and all. He was asking about a man like the one you described. Did he kill our people?" she asked very seriously, turning to face Marcus fully.

„ No, no...but he might be in trouble with the ones who did. " that was all he could explain without revealing the demon part, and it may not go over too well, so best to keep it quiet for now.

„ Well, I told him to go to the docks and the sailors or visit the other shop. If anyone saw him in town it would be ether me or them."

„ Thanks, I'll take a look too, just in case."Marcus said smiling, though every fibber of his body was ready to jump and run after the mystery man. Jittery with excitement he downed the contents of the bowl and grabbed his jacket before rushing out.

The weather was freezing and his ears started to sting very quickly, but despite it, Marcus didn't slow down 'till he reached the shop. The man running it told him he had a visitor yesterday and advised the man to visit the school and the docks. School was next on the way, and they have seen the black man _today_ , but knew nothing about Tomas. Finally he reached the small harbour and slid past one sailor after another asking for the black man. They all pointed him towards the end of the pier, where a figure clad in black stood alone.

„ Bennett! Bennett!" the exorcist yelled out, hoping against hope, that the man would turn. And he did. Before him stood Devon Bennett in all his frozen glory.

„ Bennett…" he breathed out, stepping towards his shocked comrade.

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Heels clicking on the tile floor of the corridor warned Tomas of the beginning of another session of painful illusions. By now he gave up on counting days of this imprisonment. It was way over ten now and during that time he had suffered every twisted fantasy imaginable „ from actual physical torture in the mind to the glimpses of Luis, much older, complaining to his friends that he once had an uncle, but can't really remember how he looks like, because the man ditched him and his mom when they needed him most. The pitiful sight of his sister drowned in alcohol and in an abusive relationship because she had no one to turn to for help. Mouse's mutilated body. His grandmother dying alone, calling his name and praying for relief of the pain that never went away. And Marcus. His mentor, his friend...The painful sights of him abandoned and alone, rotting away among the poor and homeless. And of course the evil Marcus, who tortures him and touches him forcefully. But the worst were the happy visions of him and Marcus, back on the road or living a peaceful life. Those were the hardest, because the pain he could and _wanted_ to rebuke, but the happiness was much harder to shun.

Over the last few days it became a ritual to knock on the wall just before the torture began, that's how he reminded himself he was still alive, still fighting in this reality. They have developed a short rhythm to let each other know the other is still there. Often Tomas wondered who it was on the other side of the wall. Was it another priest, just like him? Or maybe a nun? In his worst moments he even wondered if Mouse could be there, sitting and trying to guess who was on the other side.

When the door finally opened there she was. The red lady. He still didn't know the name of the demon, despite endless effort, however he managed to squeeze out some names and identities of other demons working with her and for her. If he would ever leave this place, that knowledge might come in handy. She gave as good as she got, unfortunately...and by now she knew his every dirty secret, even those he didn't know himself. For example his attraction to Marcus. He never considered it anything more than a love towards a comrade and admiration of the man who taught him everything...but the demon managed to show him a whole different side to this attraction along with vision after vision of him and Marcus...Now Tomas almost hoped to never see him again. He couldn't look the man in the eyes.

„ Please tell me you have changed your mind, dear father, and we can go have some tea in the living room together?" she asked without even greeting. Bending down the demoness showed of her impressive cleavage right in front of Tomas' nose, but the man couldn't care less.

„ I told you again and again, that I never will. Let me go or kill me, demon, but don't bother to keep me here." he hissed looking straight into the yellow eyes of the demon.

„Well in that case..." she pulled out a gun and aimed it at the prisoner's head.

Adrenaline flooded Tomas' veins but instead of facing his death he kicked her leg and grabbed the gun when it fell to the ground. Before the demon could get up he hit her head with the hilt of the gun and snatched the keys from her pocket.

After the cursed cuffs were off Tomas sneaked his way past one demon after another and when the path to freedom was clear he ran. And ran, and ran, until a highway came in sight. Jumping in front of the first car he saw Tomas managed to get himself out and away, now all he needs to do is to find safety, find Marcus...

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The grocery bags were ridiculously heavy in his hands as he strode the sidewalks in early evening dusk. The beans and meat were necessary, though, he promised Marcus to make chicken tortilla soup for diner sometime soon and the older man wouldn't shut up about it for the entire week, so despite having a very tiring day at the library, Tomas still intended to make dinner.

Their tiny house was in urgent need of repairs and when he walked up to the porch Tomas found Marcus up on the roof, fixing the holes. They let rain through on worse downpours. Even if it was barely enough light to see, the sound of hammer hitting wood could still be heard. He decided to leave Marcus alone until it's time for dinner.

The dinner table was littered with chalk, pencils and paper _again_ , and still, Tomas couldn't find it in himself to care. Marcus was messy, loud, cheeky, but the man was his. And his drawings were getting more and more attention, even a couple of galleries took them on for selling. It seems art pays if you're good at it. Putting the mess away carefully he went about making dinner listening to the hammer strikes and loud whistling from above. Marcus was getting better recently, he became more and more relaxed about their new arrangement and...relationship. Though that may not be new, just evolving. They touch much more and kiss few times a day, it still didn't reach the actual bed, but Tomas was in no hurry, it was all very new to him as well. Bennett has let them both off their leashes, so it was a new area to explore without shame. They still perform exorcisms from time to time, but the need became so rare it's just a side job now. No life on the road, no trashy motels...just warm presence of Marcus in his bed. Their bed. Following that thought Marcus strode into the room sweaty, grimy and smiling from ear to ear.

„ Thought something smells good." he said wrapping his arms around Tomas from behind and peeking over his shoulder at the pot „Is it done yet?"

„ No, not yet" the younger man said barely holding back laughter at this lover's impatience.

„ Too bad...can I have you instead?" Marcus smiled against his neck before kissing the nape, then the side and eventually settling on the soft spot behind his ear.

„ _Cariño_...please... I need to concentrate" he tried to plead but it fell on deaf ears.

„ Then concentrate while I'm having dessert." the wicked bastard whispered roaming his hands over Tomas' hips and waist. Deft fingers slipped under his shirt and Tomas found it harder by the second to keep his eyes open and mouth shut.

„ You are horrible... _Dios mio_..." those fingers were playing with his waistband and peeking under just enough to brush against the tip of a hardening member there.

„ Hmmm...I could be even worse." he whispered into Tomas' ear just before the doorbell rang very insistently three times in a row. „Or not...D'you want me to get that?"

„ No, no, go, wash up, I'll see who it is.„ the younger man said turning and gave Marcus a peck on the lips before striding to the door. When he flung it open, there was a red haired woman on the doorstep. Her blood red painted lips reminded Tomas of something...and in a moment the truth came crashing down.

„ You..." he mumbled in a shaky voice.

„ Hello, darling. Just greetings from the neighborhood. We made you a basket." she said reaching a wrapped basked out towards Tomas.

„ I never escaped...it never ended..."

„ Come, let's have a chat." the demon said calmly and grabbed Tomas hand to drag him to the kitchen. When they reached the counter Tomas seemed to get his wits back about him

„ No, no, I can't let you do this! Release me, demon, I order you in the name of Christ the redeemer..."

„ Please, my dear, stop that." the demon purred, grabbing Tomas' hand and placing it directly on the stove. He screamed, but no sound came out, just the sound of Marcus washing his hands and whistling could be heard from the bathroom. „I can kill you and I will, if you force my hand. This game has gone too far, my dear father. This is my last offer. Remember the happiness you felt just a minute ago, wouldn't you want to keep it?"

„ It is not real! How can I keep it if it's all a lie?" Thomas wheezed, clutching his hand to his chest, but a moment later the burn and the pain were both gone.

„ What is real? The burn on your hand? The world you left behind? The dirty cell? Is that the reality you want to live in, where Marcus abandoned you, your friend the nun is dead and you are rotting away?"

„ At least it is not theatre, like this! How can I accept it? This is not love!"

„ It is to you. You love him, in many ways and in this subspace of reality you actually get to keep that, kitten. Reality is in the eye of the perceiver, if there is no one to observe reality, it does not exist. It could be your reality, think about it." the red haired woman sat calmly at their dining table and watched as Tomas helplessly stared from her to the doorway, where Marcus was half naked, burrowing into his shelf for a new shirt. He was barefoot, relaxed and completely unashamed of his scars, not in front of Tomas. They were past that. It terrified the younger priest to even think about giving all this up. He had never been this happy, unashamedly so. And Marcus seemed happy too...As if feeling his thoughts the demon spoke again:

„ Look at him. He's so peaceful, so happy. And you would dare to take it away from him? The sole tiny moment of happiness he's ever had?" at that moment the man in question stepped into the kitchen completely unaware of the demon present there and picked up the spoon out of the pot of stew, but instead of blowing on the contents he just dipped one finger into it and licked it off.

„ Well that sure is Mexican...You better hurry, father, or there may not be enough left for you when I'm done with that masterpiece of yours…" he said turning towards Tomas and smiling brightly. The younger man felt tears slip down from his eyes, but could do nothing to stop them and Marcus' face fell instantly.

„ Tomas, my love, what's wrong? Are you alright?" Marcus asked instantly dropping the spoon and placing both hands on Tomas' cheeks, stroking his cheekbones gently. The younger man could not speak and this time it had nothing to do with the demon - it was the strangling feeling of tears that rendered him speechless. He closed his eyes and tried to shake his head, but lips were on his forehead, then his temple and eventually his lips. Marcus' voice was so close in the darkness.

„ Tomas, please tell me what's wrong...I'm here for you, just tell me, love. Please, it's okay..."

„ No." Tomas said quietly „No, Marcus, I'm sorry but I can't do this." The younger man's face was a broken mask of regret and love mixed together. It hurt him even more to see the betrayal on his lover's face as he took a few steps back and faced the demon instead.

„ You want my body? Take it! But my soul you will never have! I will not live this nightmare, no matter how much it hurts so leave it..."

„ Tomas...you are leaving me now? After all this...why?" Dream Marcus came closer, unshed tears shining in his bright blue eyes.

„ I...Marcus...I'm so sorry..." Thomas whispered before closing his eyes in a desperate effort to escape the confines of his own mind. There was no point to go back to reality „ it will only end in the same painful loop of finding happiness and loosing it over and over „ so he chose to go the other way. In a second he concentrated and did what he usually does to go to the spirit world, but in the mind there was nowhere left to go, and all he saw behind his eyes was a bright light, so he let all pain drain away in its presence and stepped forward...

He could _feel_ the grass in the wind.

The birds singing to each other, the flow of every stream on the planet, the pain and joy of _every_ man, woman and child.

In one endless moment of clarity Tomas realized that he was not only Tomas anymore. _He was everything and everything was him._ In the endless stream of light and life there were no good or bad emotions, no fear or hate towards anything, because there, he was part of every single existence on the planet. The light was life. And Tomas was an endless fractal of that life.

In the half light of the cell Lilith stood and stared at the empty shell before her. The soul was gone, even if the body still breathed and the heart was still beating. She knew she won't be able to use his power without the soul, so there was no other option left...

„ Guard! Bring me the ashes. We'll call one of our brothers to use this piece of meat. And get the other prisoner here. If she can't bring his soul back...shoot them both."

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That's it for now, but don't worry, we'll get Tomas back, I promise! I would never hurt that precious kitten ^.^ See you next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

Hello to all the amazing people, who bother reading this story! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my nonsense, it makes me immensely happy. Also, any comments are always welcome, just please be polite, it's my first fic in this fandom and it's sort of writing itself...so I have very little control over what's coming next XD

Right, here it is!

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Archer dragged himself back after four hours of duping the local police into giving him some information, which could help them track Tomas down. By now he had a probable theory and needed to run it past his resident wacky priest with expertise in demons. If it will pass Marcus' test, they will need to work fast, the agent thought as he passed the front door of the quaint little shop.

Marcus was not in their room. He was not downstairs ether. ' _Maybe he's still out snooping around?'_ he thought turning a corner and stepping into the shop itself.

„ Madam, have you seem my partner? It seems we missed each other..." he asked their current landlady. She was standing by the shelf, putting canned beans in neat rows.

„ He wanted to talk to the priest, so I send him to the docks." she answered only sparing a short glance his way.

„ What priest?"

„ Oh, I didn't mention it before, but a priest came by yesterday morning asking about a young man. I didn't think it could be important."

„ How long ago did he leave?" she checked a cheap plastic watch on her hand before answering.

„ About two hours ago."

„ How far to the docks?" Jonathan asked, feeling dread rising up like a tidal wave in his body. There is nowhere in this town far enough to require that amount of time to get to.

„ Fifteen minutes or so, if you walk fast. He ran out in such a hurry, he should have been there in ten."

„ Shit. Which way to the harbour?" she pointed to the right wordlessly ant the brunette all but ran out the door.

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Marcus shivered in the cold, feeling the metal of the pipe he was bound to dig into his naked back. There were prickles on his skin here and there, some patches felt itchy. The stripe where it touched the former priest's skin didn't feel cold, though. It felt numb...but none of it mattered to him at the moment as he watched the familiar medallion swing in front of his nose. It was silly for him to give it to her back then. Inappropriate too, but it was the most innocent gift he could think of at the time, and she seemed so happy. Now she's dead „ his little Church Mouse - killed by Bennett's hands. He knew full well, the demon told him just to push him off balance, but God it worked...

The cold was making his mind a little foggy, unfortunately not enough to stop the pain and guilt spreading like a virus in his system. He led her to this path and left her to walk it alone, to end it in the waves of an icy ocean. Good company for the fish.

Tomas was his second mistake, second forbidden love. Now he's in danger of eternal damnation, hopefully still fighting not to lose his soul... Like Bennett already has. ' _Not on my watch._ ' Marcus swore to himself quietly.

Following the metal Rose with his eyes the exorcist idly wondered did he really became so rusty not to see this trap, or the world just turned on its axis enough that in this crooked version of reality his little girl was dead and his proper, by-the-book boss stood before him possessed.

„ Make your choice wisely, Lion. Every time you stray from the Church someone suffers. You led poor Mouse into temptation, and the lovely Tomas, so innocent and charming, now has a gift he never asked for, just because you couldn't stop yourself from being a lecherous old fool. If you had stayed under our wing, followed the path given to you, it all may have been different. Remember, when this world abandoned you and left you to rot away amongst the unwanted, it was the Church that picked you up and cared for you."

„ And now you want me to help you to bring it down to ashes? Ain't that the joke of the year?" the prisoner spat back smiling viciously. Though he tried not to show it, the taunts did hit home. He was responsible for Mouse's death. He was at fault for Tomas' misfortunes, and he knew it. Because of his selfish desire to keep these beautiful, virtuous, _good_ people beside him just a little longer he had ruined their lives.

„Oh no. You misunderstand us...your mother Church is in pathetic condition now. Once it was the religious leaders, that ruled the world, Church was the highest authority, and now look at it, snivelling in the corners...waiting for scraps from the state and ungrateful congregation. I want to make it grand again, Marcus, under our care. Wouldn't you want to get your collar back? To belong somewhere again? Now you're just running around aimlessly, like a stray animal, biting at every outstretched hand. How long do you think this world will keep taking pity on an old rabid beast? How many more you'll lead to their deaths? Come home Marcus."

„ Home to a Church, that's happy to kill half of its servants, like _Mouse_?" the exorcist yelled pulling on the ropes in an attempt to get his hands free by sheer force of fury.

„ The ungrateful and disobedient must be weeded out so the rest could flourish. We were not the ones to make her the way she was, put her on the path to unavoidable death, now were we? She was too stubborn." Bennett's face showed an expression of pure remorse, something Marcus had never seen on the real Bennett's face. It only made the fact of possession clearer. In the pregnant silence the imposter waited for a reply but instead heard voices outside of the cargo hold, on the deck, men were arguing about something. Marcus pulled his attention back by answering with a bright smile:

„ You're right about that, and she learned it from me, so I ain't gonna lap at your feet ether."

„ We'll see if you change your mind over time, maybe..."

The demon didn't get to finish his sentence as the phone started to ring in Marcus' jacket. Both stared at it a few seconds before three shots were fired in rapid succession. Then footsteps, running down the stairs echoed in the silence. Bennett's imposter barely had the time to turn his wide eyes towards Marcus when the door was kicked down and a man with a gun fell through.

„ Don't move! Hand's where I can see them!" Jonathan's voice echoed on the empty metal vessel like thunder. The demon sneered and lifted his hands up. An invisible force threw the agent a couple of meters back into a wall and he lost the grip on his gun. While the winded man tried to scrap himself back upon his feet the demon stepped closer to Marcus and whispered into his face:

„ Think about it, Lion, and make the right choice. We'll come to collect..."

Archer was halfway to his feet when the words reached his ears and made the agent freeze. _Lion_. It was the one word that rang out in his mind louder than the rest, but sheer discipline allowed him to push it away for the time being and raise his gun back up. One shot echoed loudly scraping the demon's shoulder and sending him to his knees in shock. The agent was ready to make a fatal shot any moment when Marcus' voice rang out:

„ Don't kill him! Archer, don't shoot him!"

Turning towards his current travel companion Jonathan took stock of his dreadful condition. Marcus' skin was turning from red to pale...in some places bluish. First and second stages of frostbite.

In a split-second decision he put the gun back in the holster and rushed towards the half naked priest, deciding to leave his strange demand for later inspection. When the ropes around the prisoner's hands were undone he hauled him up and aimed the gun back at the man kneeling on the floor - just in case he decided to try and stop them. He didn't. The demon just lifted his good hand up in the sign of surrender and smiled viciously as both men stumbled towards the door. Thankfully Marcus could stand on his feet surprisingly well, so they made quick progress up the stairs and off the ship. When on the pier Jonathan shrugged his jacket off and almost manhandled the former priest into it before breaking into a run towards the car. Local sailors parted before them like the Red sea for Moses.

The car felt like a furnace to Marcus. He wanted to rip off the warm jacked he's been bundled up in, and rip his skin along with it „ it stung all over. His brain started to work faster though, and he pushed past the pain to get some use out of it.

„ I know where Tomas is. That demon was all giddy to tell me where to find him and used that information to lure me into the ship. An old fool, I am...at least some good came out of it. Or it's a trap, but in God's honest truth I don't care. There's this group of demons, run by a woman, the name's Isabella Brier. They're holding Tomas outside o' town, there's some kind of research center where they keep exorcists, 'cause it takes time to integrate them. We need to get there..."

„ Alright, alright, settle down. We'll get to the shop first, you need clothes and..." Jonathan didn't get to finish when a furious exorcist grabbed a fistful of his sweater and yanked him forward, spiting angrily two inches away from his face:

„ Are you listening, you bastard! D'you know what it feels like to have a demon digging about in your head? Scratching at every wound, every sore...twisting your emotions 'till there's nothing but shame and pain left? Screw clothes, screw my goddamn back, it'll heal one day or another, I don't care! It's not just his life, that's in danger, it's his immortal soul! If you don't start driving I'll fucking walk!

Marcus was trembling with anger and the leftovers of cold. The demon's taunts still rang in his ears and pushed his heart into overdrive. Adrenaline coursing his veins didn't help ether as he waited for some kind of reaction. Some yelling, maybe a sock in the jaw - he could live with that, so long as the idiot listened. Nothing came. Archers face became so blank and devoid of any human emotion it took Marcus by surprise and made the exorcist remove his hand slowly. The lack of reaction was far scarier than a full on blow-up. He never quite realized that his travel companion could be dangerous...until now. The man just turned and started the engine, driving them out into the street and back towards the shop. He was about to argue, but Jonathan spoke before he could open his mouth:

„ I need ammunition. You need clothes. You want to kill yourself, feel free, but I'm not letting you put Tomas life in jeopardy. Move from the car while I'm gone and I will shoot you myself." the words were spoken without looking at him once and with full expectation of obedience. It was not a request, but an order and Marcus felt the searing difference instantly. His earlier outburst _might_ have been a mistake, though he couldn't find it in himself to feel any remorse over it. „Understood?"

Too pissed to answer the exorcist chose to pointedly stare out the window instead. Archer didn't move.

„ Get on with it, then. I'm not going anywhere." he eventually barked just to get the bastard moving.

Without another word the agent jumped out of the car and strode through the door only to return couple of minutes later with a bundled up sweater, a box of grocery goods and a second gun behind his belt. When the car doors opened a bulky sweater was thrown his way.

„ Marcus, can I trust you not to lose it while we're there?"

„ I've done this once or twice...Care for your own arse. You don't even properly know where we're going."

„ There's only one research center five miles away from town. All three murder victims had some kind of connection to it. One was a teacher, another a student on collaboration project and the third worked in the shop. They do a delivery service there twice a week. That will be our cover. Research group has twelve scientists in it, so we may be severely outnumbered." after a moment of silence he repeated the question „So, can I trust you to keep a cool head, or do I need to leave you here?"

„Like hell you are. I'm his partner, he called me for help, and it ain't your choice to leave me behind. I'll keep my wits about me if you stop acting like a prick!" now his face was red not from the cold, but in sheer indignation. They are minutes away from their goal. Tomas is just around the corner, and what they're doing? _Arguing over nonsense!_

There was a short moment of silence before Archer spoke up again, this time almost carefully:

„ Technically, he called me for help. I just didn't feel competent in the task, so I came looking for the man I saw in my dreams alongside Tomas. It was my decision; he doesn't know you're here."

The words spilled over Marcus like a bucket of ice water. _Tomas may not want him here_. He never considered to contact Marcus and chose a stranger instead. The feeling of betrayal pierced his chest painfully almost pushing tears to the former priest's eyes. Why would Tomas, _his Tomas_ , not ask for help? Was he angry with Marcus for leaving? Did he not trust Marcus anymore?

Silence must have lasted too long, because a loud sigh filled the car and Jonathan rubbed his hands over his face wearily.

„ Shit. This is the worst possible timing, but I have no idea what happened between you two and how he may react to you being here...that's why you need to know." After another short pause he added „ Could we focus on getting him out of there for now...and you can scream your head off at me later?"

The agent turned his face towards the passenger seat, icy expression replaced with a wary one. Now it was Marcus' turn to brood - he seemed so lost in the unexpected revelation Jonathan even wondered if the man had heard him at all.

„ Marcus, say something."

„ Start the car." the exorcist answered in clearly controlled anger „We get Tomas free now and leave...everything else for later. I'll want to know what else you've been lyin' about. Give me the spare gun."

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Tomas' cell was eerily quiet, only the flickering candle flame moved soundlessly, casting shadows upon the walls. A young woman sat on the cold floor cross"legged, with her eyes closed in meditation and pointedly ignored both the cold metal of a chain around her wrist and the unmoving glare of black eyes staring at her from Tomas' face.

„ Better get a move on, Missy" the creature growled „you're both hanging by a thread. Tick-tack. Tick-tack. Tick-tack."

Hiss of laughter filled the room, but the woman didn't move an inch, until first sound of a small crash reached her ears. Voices, screaming. Metal doors being slammed once, twice. Then the room next to theirs was barged into and even the demon started to seemingly get nervous, looking at the prisoner in expectation, as if she knew what was going on. Eventually the footsteps reached their door and both inhabitants got ready to fight in a strange moment of unity.

When the metal door was finally flung open Marcus fell through it almost desperately - a cross in one hand and a gun in another. By now they were losing hope, this was the fifth room they checked, wading their way through demon after demon. There were supposed to be twelve demons in the station, if every member of the research team was possessed.

In the last fifteen minutes of the siege they had been thrown into three walls, had an assortment of tools, vases, pipes and a chair thrown at them, knocked out at least five demons - thank goodness human bodies still reacted to loss of consciousness and the demons reacted to Marcus' prayers. The exorcist froze on the spot, staring wide eyed at the sight before him.

„ Tomas." he whispered quietly, the name almost like a prayer on his lips. But the eyes looking back at him were coal black. „Oh, Tomas..."

„ He's not home, Exorcist." the familiar face sneered from the spot on the floor. „You're too late, this is my body now."

„ You're not integrated, demon. He's fighting you." Marcus hissed at the familiar face. The beard has grown out and cheeks seemed too hollow. Few sores already appeared on the once smooth as velvet skin.

„ There's nothing to integrate, he's long gone." the creature cackled loud and unearthly in the deafening silence.

„ Ignore him." said a voice to his left and Marcus turned to find another person - a young woman of Asian descent - sitting opposite Tomas. She had short black hair, once fashionably cut longer on one side, but now it was a crow's nest at best. She was dirty, malnourished, but demon free.

„ Who are you?" he demanded piercing her with a scrutinizing gaze.

„ Not a demon." she answered elusively and lifted her wrist to show off a lovely piece of metal binding it. „I'm like him, a spirit walker. That's why I'm here, they are collecting us. The spirit is not lying, his soul is not in the body now, but he's not dead. Get the watchdog out and I can bring him back.

„ Why haven't you yet, then? They've offered something for it, haven't they?" he sneered leaning in closer to the woman.

„ Oh yes, a painful death, or even more painful existence. I wasn't in much of a hurry to drag him back to his execution!" she yelled back, ramming her dark brown eyes into his.

A third voice interrupted the argument from the doorway before it could stretch out any longer:

„ What the fuck are you doing in there, starting a tea party?! Get on with it! We have guests!" Archer yelled and evaded a heavy pipe flying his way. Two demons ran towards them and fell onto all fours crawling over the wall to jump onto Jonathan. One shot echoed in the chaos and a demon fell, but the other was nearly ripping Archer's face off when a tirade of strange words rang out:

„ Nômaku sanmanda bazaradan senda makaroshada sowataya…" the woman chanted with her hands clasped in a peculiar position in front of her chest.

Marcus' eyebrows shot up in surprise as the demon whined pitifully and tried to cover his ears, crawling backwards into a wall. The creature in Tomas' body reacted almost identically. Without wasting time the exorcist fumbled with a bundle of keys they snatched from one of the guards, trying one after another to find the right one. When she was free, he proceeded to Tomas and did the same. It was beyond painful to do so, but Marcus hit his head enough to knock his partner out, so they could move.

Getting out was remarkably easier than getting in, and in less than five minutes all four battered people sat in the car speeding on icy roads back towards the town.

They stopped by the small shop to grab their luggage and thank the woman for her hospitality. Marcus blessed a good bottle of water and instructed her to splash it on suspicious people entering the shop, especially the research center personnel. If it burns them, she should run, he explained. But the elderly woman dragged a hunting rifle from under her desk and smiled at him broadly. ' _That woman's a tough one, she will be okay'_ the exorcist tried to convince himself before they took off. In exchange he took two bottles of sleeping pills and fed a few to Tomas in hopes of keeping him unconscious.

Now there was only one problem left - they had nowhere to go.

Marcus was too absorbed in the joy of finding Tomas and the guilt for his pitiful condition to think further than getting away. He sat in the back with a mop of overgrown black hair in his lap, treading his fingers through it almost reverently, prayer after prayer falling from his lips. ' _He looks so old, like it's been six years, not six months. What've you been doing, Tomas?_ ' Marcus thought absently, tracing his fingertips over wrinkles around Tomas' eyes. They seemed etched into his usually soft skin with a sharp blade. The older man knew that blade like an old friend „ it was exhaustion, cynicism and faith „ the trademarks of a martyr, or an exorcist. Lost in the effortless flow of Hail Mary's, the blue eyed man didn't hear the conversation in the front seat:

„ Do you have a name, miss?" Jonathan asked not taking his eyes off the road. The damn thing was covered in ice and the speed didn't help ether.

„ Tessa. I'm Tessa Kawasagi. You?"

„ Jonathan Archer. The man in the back is Marcus and your fellow prisoner's name's Tomas."

„Is Marcus a priest?" she questioned, already half sure of the answer. Through the rear view mirror she watched him squeezing a strange metal cross in his hands and praying with practiced ease.

„ They both are."

„ And you?"

„ I'm definitely not a priest."

„ What are you then?" she looked at the man behind the wheel curiously.

„ I'm the bodyguard, so to speak." he answered, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

„ Well, you sure look like it..." she trailed off giving the driver a once over. „Where are we going?"

„ Away, for now. I've no idea where we could hide out. Where do you need to go?"

„ I live in LA, or I used to about a month ago, but they burned down my apartment...There's no way I'm dragging any of my friends into this, so, basically...I go where you go." she said looking through the window at the endless white horizon. „Also, I promised to get him back."

Both people in the front seat dared a short glance back just to find Marcus pressing a cross into Tomas forehead and mumbling quietly. Tessa sighed and stared a little longer, taking in the condition of the young priest.

„ This may take a while." she said turning towards Archer „Exorcisms can last weeks...and without the host fighting back, it will be a tough battle."

„ Then we'll need someplace safe to do it. If my own people weren't hunting me down I could use one of our safe houses, but now that's not an option." the brunette pondered, wrecking his brain for some kind of solution.

„ Who's hunting you?" she asked slightly alarmed.

„ FBI. Don't worry, I'm not a maniac, just a traitor in their eyes. It seems to be a reoccurring theme." the man explained smiling bitterly. The Navy thought him a traitor for hunting down his fellow soldiers for their crimes on the battlefield and now FBI thought the same, because he refused to turn away from the corruption on the top levels.

„ How about him? Maybe he's got someplace to go?" Tessa asked pointing her nose towards the blonde exorcist in the back seat. It was worth a shot.

„ Marcus? Do you know someplace where we could lay low until you deal with Tomas' condition?" Jonathan asked raising his voice to get the preoccupied exorcist's attention. Clear blue eyes glanced up, reluctantly leaving Tomas' face. Marcus knew full well that every connection he once had or could arrange was a risk now. If Bennett could be integrated, there was no saying who's the enemy and who's not. Iron resolve shone in the icy depths making the gaze piercing and almost aglow in the dark.

„ Find me some deserted place. An abandoned house, a warehouse, some old barn and your job is done." the man spoke calmly but with a hint of remaining anger colouring the tone. Without even waiting for a reply he returned this attention to the unconscious figure in his lap.

Both people in the front seat stared at each other in silence for a long second before the woman spoke up:

„ I hope you're smart enough not to listen to that idiot. They both will freeze to death." she argued in a hushed tone, hoping Archer will see her point.

„ I know, he's just angry and stubborn. He'd rather chew his own hand off, than let someone else unlock the chain around it. That's just the way he is, as much as I can tell."

„ Charming." she commented smiling broadly.

„ You bet. That leaves the two of us to deal with this. If you intend to tag along maybe there is someone you could trust enough?"

„ A couple of people" she said after long minutes of consideration. Her list of friends was extensive, but most of them couldn't really be called _friends,_ more like buddies, associates..."but they both live in Florida, that's too far away, he's not going to make it."

„ Then I guess I'll have to use the one safe place I'd rather not tarnish...I have an Aunt in Montana, not by blood, but she loves me...hopefully enough to take a whole pack of vagabonds under her wing." he said and pulled out his phone. After a moment of meddling and a few dial tones, feminine voice could be heard on the other end.

„ Aunt Marge?" Jonathan asked hesitantly, not quite sure how the woman will react...he hasn't called for five years.

„ You scrawny little brat, where have you been?! Do you even know how to use a phone?!" the matronly tone could be heard even in the car and Jonathan couldn't help but smile. They're going to be alright.

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We're getting to an actual exorcism and the aftermath of it in the next chapter. Also, let's not forget Mouse and her adventures :) See you soon!


	6. Chapter 6

Hello there, folks, and thank you so so much for reading this story!

It just keeps evolving and turning into a whole damn book, to be honest, but bear up with me, please :) There should be more action from now on and our boys will have a lot to deal with after Tomas' possession. Anyway, here comes the exorcism!

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Seven crows sat in a slumbering, leafless tree outside a small house, sheltered from the winds by a heavy wall of evergreen forest. It was probably what earned the small town in Montana its name – Evergreen.

The silence outside was so loud you could hear the wind rattling dry branches. Small snowflakes swirled in the air and slowly covered fields and groves in a fine sheet of white, marking the coming of winter. A picture perfect view of peaceful countryside.

On the other side of a small window, however, life was nothing even remotely close to peaceful.

„ He's going to kill them both! It's been three days!" Jonathan barked pacing back and forth in a small kitchen. Two women sitting by the kitchen isle had heard this particular train of thought numerous times by now and were getting tired of persuading the old soldier not to kick down the door of a large attic area on the second floor.

„ For crying out loud, boy, sit down, you're making me nervous." the plump, short haired woman demanded. She trotted to a nearby shelf and pulled an old radio out of a corner unceremoniously placing it in front of Jonathan's nose „It's broken. You might as well earn your keep."

A loud crash from upstairs made them all look up in weary resignation - it became a normal part of their days and nights lately, along with the flickering lights and an assortment of wild animals trying to claw their way inside. Wordlessly the man grabbed the medieval transistor and started to pick it apart.

A heavy metal tub, which was responsible for the latest bang, rolled on the dusty attic floor unnoticed by the two men huddled up in the corner. Marcus' hands were wet with holy water holding Tomas' face between them as he spoke feverishly out of memory:

„ Oh, pray to the God of peace that He may put Satan under our feet, so far conquered that he may no longer be able to hold men in captivity and harm the Church." A wet thumb drew the sign of cross on Tomas' sweaty brow and the demon inside howled wildly „We offer our prayers in the sight of the Most High, so that they may quickly find mercy in the sight of the Lord and vanquishing the dragon, the ancient serpent, who is the devil and Satan, do thou again make him captive in the abyss, that he may no longer seduce the nations."

„ Oh, your god knows as much about seducing men as any demon...he sent you this lovely temptation, didn't he?" the younger man's full lips, usually graced by a soft or occasionally rueful smile, were now grinning seductively at him, head thrown back to expose Tomas' throat. Marcus didn't see the sores and bruises, the overgrown beard, in demon's illusion Tomas was just like he remembered - beardless, with outgrowing curly hair and temptingly plump lips.

„Such a lovely boy he is...how often did you think about spreading his legs? Or you'd rather let him spread yours?"

„ Behold the Cross of the Lord and be scattered ye hostile powers." the exorcist howled grabbing a wooden cross from a nearby box and pressing it into Tomas' forehead. The growling grew louder but the demon was still smiling.

„ Did you confess? _Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa..."_

„ Silence, demon, I order you in the name of The Lord! It is He, who commands you!" Marcus screamed feeling Gods light inside his veins, travelling through him like lightning trapped in his body „He who flung you headlong from the heights of heaven into the depths of hell. It is He who commands you, He who once stilled the sea and the wind and the storm!"

The trashing body stilled and the rattling old pots and broomsticks settled back into place before Tomas' eyes opened slowly, almost gently, a small, sweet smile graced the lovely features and it struck Marcus stronger than any accusation. It was too close to the real thing, painfully close.

„ I'm so tired, Marcus...I don't want to do this anymore...it hurts...please, just hold me like the day we parted...hold me close..." the creature spoke softly in Tomas' voice and Marcus barely managed to hold back from running his fingers through the sweat soaked locks.

„ Save your servant, who trusts in you, my God." he trudged on, gripping his rosary so the temptation to touch Tomas would not overtake him „ Let him find in you, Lord, a fortified tower in the face of the enemy. Let the enemy have no power over him..."

„ Marcus... _duele_... _por favor, mi querido…_ I trusted you. I followed you to the pit and back, why do you hurt me so?"

„ Hearken, therefore, and tremble in fear, Satan, you enemy of the faith, you foe of the human race, you begetter of death, you robber of life..." the exorcist tried to speak, but his voice was trembling enough to muddle the words.

It's only been three days but he was slowly getting both desperate and dead on his feet. He had to convince himself that Tomas' spirit is not there, so there is no point in appealing to it, no point in brushing the slow tears trickling down his partner's face.

When a hand bound by a leather belt reached out to touch his face, Marcus didn't have it in him to move away. It caressed his cheek, rubbing the few days' stubble there before brushing against his lips, so very softly. The gentle touch seared through his body in a shiver and ended up deep in the exorcist's belly, stroking the fire h tried so hard to quench.

„ Tomas may not want you, Marcus, but I don't mind..." the demon whispered lifting up to nose Marcus' cheek sweetly. The man closed his eyes but couldn't force himself to move. „I know you want to kiss these lips, to feel them against yours...to feel them on you cock...have you ever dreamed of fucking his mouth? Have at it, I'll let you..."

With those filthy words still hanging in the air, Marcus felt full lips brush against his and instinctively pushed his own mouth closer, before the realization hit him. The man scrambled back desperately, hiding his face in his hands and stumbling over an old lawn mower. It sent him falling on his back. When the exorcist managed to get up he dashed straight to the exit, demon's eerie laughter still ringing when he slammed the door shut.

The stairs seemed endless and not long enough at the same time for the weary blue eyed man. He slowly descended knowing full well food and coffee are in order. The strong smell of tomatoes, garlic and something else wafted the air as he reached the kitchen. Predictably their host, Margery Bell, was cooking dinner and Jonathan's broad frame, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, sat hunched over a table with bits and pieces of _something_ littering the surface.

„ What is _that_?" the exorcist asked skeptically, staring at the mess.

„ It's a radio."

„ Looks more like three toasters and half a car engine..." Marcus commented grinning. By now he was desperate for some comic relief from the pesky thoughts swirling in his head.

„ Just shows how much you know about car engines." Jonathan countered smiling crookedly. „ Want some coffee?"

„ God, yes. About a litre should do."

„ Leave some space for food!" The grey woman reminded sternly and he instantly felt like forty years have been scratched off his record and he's a cranky teenager all over.

„ Who needs food when there's coffee?" the exorcist argued half heartedly and went about pulling out the cup and boiling some water before Archer could even move. Three days were more than enough for him to feel homey anywhere, really.

„ The both of you do." she said pointedly looking at the mop of black hair peaking out from under a blanket on the couch „She was held prisoner for over a month, what's your excuse?"

„ Don't want to ruin my figure, maybe?" he smiled at Margery as honestly as he could at the moment. The woman was doing them an enormous favour, she deserved the best treatment he could muster.

„ How is it going?" Jonathan asked carefully. It was a sore subject, due to Marcus' reluctance to let anyone help him.

„ We're making progress." the exorcist answered stiffly, not willing to accept the fact it may not be going too well. That kiss the demon just lured out of him was a bad sign. Just like it was with Mouse, he's too close and it makes him compromised by default. Unfortunately there's no one to call in to replace him...not that he'd ever repeat that mistake again. Still, he'll need to ask for _surveillance_ soon, the blonde reluctantly acknowledged and remembered the conversation he had with Archer back in Canada, when he woke up to find the man out of the car, leaning on the lid and smoking. He had been slowly stewing in the anger over the lie he's been told and decided to get it out of his system there and then. However the look of sheer exhaustion on the brunette's face, paired with several lovely bruises had tempered his fury...somewhat.

 _„ At least you smoke." Marcus deadpanned leaning on the car with his arms crossed „One sign you're halfway human, or else I would've reckoned you made a better priest than me. Have a spare?"_

 _„ Sure." Jonathan said pulling a pack from his pocket „I would make an awful priest, their main job is to make people like them and the god they represent...and I'm shitty at that. I assume you expect an apology?"_

 _„ I expect a goddamn explanation." Marcus demanded staring straight at the grey eyes. First puff of nicotine did him some good. Muscles in his back relaxed somewhat and he felt less like throttling the driver._

 _„ Well, you'll get it anyway...along with the explanations. You spooked me, Marcus. All the time we travelled together you were in control of your emotions regarding this case, you were logical, coolheaded and relatively strategic. I could work with that. But when we got to Kaktovik, after the ship...you lost it, and I couldn't afford instability when we were so close. I lashed out and for that I'm sorry. About the other thing...well I had no idea how willing you would be to help me if you knew it wasn't your former partner requesting your help, but some random stranger."_

 _„ And you decided lyin' 's the brightest idea?!" the older man barked, pulling lapels of the jacket closer and taking a long drag. The cigarette was nearly done already and he begrudgingly realized he'll need a second one._

 _„ I had no idea how to deal with demons, and you did, so I...omitted some details from my dreams to make sure you felt the moral need to do the right thing. Had I known you a little better, I wouldn't have bothered." the man answered in a clipped tone, but it soon softened a little as he added „It was the only thing I kept a secret."_

 _„ I damn well hope so, because every secret you keep from now on is a liability. If you won't let us off by some nameless roadside, you become part of this exorcism...and the demon in Tomas will know. It will dig up every dirty secret you have the first chance you give it and rub it in your face."_

 _„ I was trained to endure interrogation, I'll survive somehow." Jonathan said confidently._

 _„ Your call." the exorcist relented. When his head cooled off a little he realized they'll need all the help they can get. „So, where are we going?"_

 _„ Evergreen, Montana. I have an aunt there, she'll take us."_

 _„ Right. And where's the girl?"_

 _„ Her name is Tessa and she's getting coffee. You were still out cold, so I didn't order you any. You can have mine."_

 _„ I'd rather not...you look like you need it more. And I can't in clear conscience rob you of your coffee when I already snagged your jacket." Marcus said feeling a thin smile tugging at his lips._

Archer was the best option and he knew it. Tessa may be tough and even experienced in the area of exorcism, but she desperately needed rest. Also, the fact she was a tiny girl and Marcus may need someone to physically restrain Tomas (or himself), was also a factor. With that thought in mind he sat by the table and pushed some wires aside before speaking up again:

„ I think I might need someone to keep an eye on us up there."

„ You do?" Jonathan asked lifting his face up in clear surprise. When Marcus hummed in response he spoke resolutely „ Alright, just tell me what you want me to do."

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Another two days passed in a stream of prayers, endless temptations and cruel reminders of every mistake, every sin he's ever committed. Marcus got used to the quiet figure by the wall, watching both him and the demon, only interfering when absolutely necessary.

Jonathan stood his own remarkably well, though the flying pots, books and swinging lamps did derail him quite a bit at the start. Nothing the demon said to him, or Marcus, managed to get through to the old soldier, until Tomas' imposter suddenly spoke in a male voice unfamiliar to Marcus:

„ Well aren't you grumpy today, sunshine." Tomas' imposter teased gently looking straight past the exorcist's shoulder. Marcus realized it was not meant for him and turned to see Archer frozen by the wall, fists clenched and jaw tight.

„ Adrian...?You have no right to use that face...that voice..." the man squeezed out in barely restrained anger.

„ Jonathan, whatever you're seeing it's not real!" Marcus yelled to get the other man back on track, but he just stared at the bed transfixed.

„ I damn well know it's not real! Doesn't hurt any less." the agent said flattening himself to the wall in effort not to move.

„ If only you had squeezed tighter...Had I meant so little to you? Why didn't you try harder, sunshine?"

The words had an immediate effect on the man by the wall - he flung himself towards the mattress seemingly ready to squeeze the life out of Tomas' body. Thankfully Marcus managed to grab him halfway and with great effort held the soldier back.

„ Out! Get the fuck out of the room! Now, Archer!"

„ Oh, my...And here I wondered will it even mean anything to you anymore...It was such an old flame after all... " the demon cackled on the mattress when both men stumbled out into the hall.

The exorcist pushed Jonathan into a wall and held him immobile by the shoulders all the while yelling at the man mercilessly:

„ I told you it's not real! Didn't I warn you about demons, how they use your secrets, your shame, and what d'you do? Keep secrets! Who's Adrian? Some unsightly affair? Is that why you're ashamed of it?"

„ I'm not ashamed! I'm guilty..." Jonathan yelled back, wrenching the hands away and pushing past Marcus to stand a few feet away, heels of his hands pressed into his eyes.

„ What happened?" Marcus demanded. He knew the only way to keep the other man in check is to realize what is the problem. When the man remained silent he pushed again „ Ether you tell me, or you're of no use to me anymore, I can't let you back in there."

„ The other half of that shrapnel grenade happened." the brunette said quietly, leaning back against the wall as if standing and speaking took too much strength."The last thing I remember was holding his guts in with my hands, feeling the blood seep through my fingers...then it went black. When I woke up they told me he's gone like he's just another soldier. We were together for five years and I couldn't even be at his funeral..."

With a heavy thump Marcus leaned against the same wall with his eyes squeezed shut. This particular type of guilt he was very familiar with. Mouse's face arose before his eyes, the big doe eyes looking at him as if he'd hung the moon, and he knew, whatever he may say will not make it better, so there is no point in saying anything. Silence stretched out while the exorcist tried to find something halfway reasonable to say - he was trained for this, at least technically - but never got the chance.

„ You love him, don't you? Tomas." the marine asked quietly staring at the wall ahead.

„ In a way." Marcus answered trying to avoid disclosing too much. His heart already felt too old and fragile, like the ancient books in Vatican library - unsuited for exposure to air and light."

„ Does he love you?"

„ In a different way." ' _A _t least I hope he still does.'__ Marcus added in his own head but kept the thought quiet.

The man beside him huffed a small and not too joyful laugh before turning and meeting the bright blue eyes:

„ Look at us, pathetic old bastards. They say love heals it all but always forget to mention it also wrecks you worse than any bomb or machine gun ever could. The strongest force in the world indeed." the words resounded in Marcus' head and something suddenly clicked into place. He's been wrong all along, trying to suppress his love for Tomas - it's that love that's going to be their salvation. That moment light in his body, God's light, grew tenfold.

„ It is, and it's gonna save us all, let's go." he grabbed Jonathan by the hand and strode straight back into the room without any apprehensions this time.

„ _Look who's back..._ " the demon greeted them in a sing song voice „ Have you had your fun, fags? And you think God will help _you_ of all people?"

„ Ignore it." Marcus instructed and went straight for the water basin, submerging his hands into it and speaking the blessing quietly. When he lifted them up holy water ran down in rivulets as he walked towards the demon calmly and keeled by the mattress. Running a hand through the sweaty locks he kissed the younger man's brow and spoke „Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them."

„ There is no fear in love." he spoke gently, cradling Tomas' head in his hands, even when the demon tried to wrench it away „But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because He first loved us."

„ Do you really think he _still_ loves you?" Tomas' imposter whispered hoarsely, not specifying, whether it meant Tomas or God, but couldn't break Marcus' hold. All the candles in the room started to flicker out and back to life, as if God's hand lit them every time the demon blew them out.

„ We were all created in God's love, you and me in equal measure. So place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death…Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away."

„ Nothing can wash your sins away...You have committed murder, you have betrayed and lusted...come to us, where you belong..."

„ Jonathan, repeat after me! Son of the morning, banished from grace, you are forgiven. Unclean thing, ashes on the earth, you are redeemed." he could remotely hear Archer's voice repeating after him and the demon screeching, but it felt so far away. The one thing filling his vision, his entire being, was light, so pure and gentle it took his breath away. It flowed through his heart and into his hands with every word „Outcast, fallen angel...you are loved."

"You are forgiven." The sign of the cross marked Tomas' brow.

"You are redeemed." Another one was drawn the same place and black eyes of the demon met the glowing summer sky blue.

"You are loved." The exorcist kissed Tomas' forehead and pressed their faces together.

"Go in peace." He whispered lastly and the air seemed to thicken around them and suddenly implode in on itself. The small window shattered loudly and the door rattled on its hinges for a horrific moment, and then there was peace.

Marcus held the limp body close, swaying back and forth a little, with his cheek pressed to Tomas' nose, just to feel him breathe. Tears seemed painfully lodged somewhere deep in his throat, but simply refused to come out. The only thing he remembered after that was the touch of small, but surprisingly strong hands, wrenching him away from the unconscious form of Tomas. As Tessa herded him away and down the stairs, he saw Margery standing in the doorway with a bowl of water, towels and a first aid kit. It was awfully handy to have a retired nurse on beck and call.

About two hours later Marcus stood in the small dining area, leaning on a worn wooden table and looked out into the snowstorm outside when Jonathan stepped through the door holding two clay mugs in one hand.

„ Coffee I hope?" the blue eyed man asked, trying to peak into the mugs.

„ Better, hot chocolate." the brunette said smiling and wiggling his brows as if he just did something really impressive. On a weary face with silver hair at the temples the expression looked so ridiculous it pulled bark of a laugh from Marcus.

„ Are you five?" the exorcist asked incredulous.

„ One's never too old for hot chocolate." Jonathan retorted grinning and reached one mug out. The feeling of warm, heavy clay under his fingers was soothing and Marcus turned back towards the window taking a slow sip. His eyes widened for a second.

„ Is this spiked?!" he asked with unmasked astonishment, grinning like an idiot.

„ Shhh, don't tell mom..." Archer whispered conspiratorially and looked sideways up the stairs where both women fussed over Tomas. All the exorcist could do is smile despite himself. Suddenly he felt younger and lighter than a minute ago...and the distance between his shoulder and Jonathan's became strangely small. In that moment he felt tempted to lean in and rest his weight on the brunette, just for a little while.

„ Marcus, how are you?" the agent asked in a very quiet and surprisingly gentle voice. It squeezed a bundle somewhere in the former priest's chest.

„ Right as rain." he said trying not to look at the other man.

„ That was an extensive answer..."

„ I'm fine, really." Marcus tried again, pointedly staring at the snow. If he'll turn now he might do something stupid. Like start crying. Or wrap himself around Jonathan just to feel that warm safety the other man seemed to emanate sometimes. Tomas was demon free, but still laid out on the bed, lifeless like a corpse, and it made Marcus want to pull his hair out in frustration.

„ If there's one thing I learned through the short time I've known you, it's that when you say 'fine' it never means fine." Archer pushed a little further, turning towards the blonde in an effort to meet his gaze „Talk to me."

„ Is that why you spiked the drink, to loosen my tongue?" the exorcist tried to deflect the serious request with humor. Jonathan huffed beside him half amused, half annoyed.

„ Maybe...Is it working?"

„ You're gonna need something stronger than that if you want to get me drunk."

„ And if I want you to go to sleep for a few hours, what do I need to do then?" Marcus dared a quick sideways glance towards the other man and stuck staring at the hail stormy eyes with a small rim of sunshine. Like a sunrise over cold northern seas. They seemed so honest and determined...and concerned.

„ I can't Jonathan..." he whispered trying to hold back tears threatening to fill his eyes any moment. „ The job's not done. He's still...lying in bed like the dead and I put him there..." the guilt settled in his chest like a large boulder, cold and unmoving. _'If I had come to him sooner...if I had never left in the first place..._ '

„ Hey, stop it. You're beating yourself up for something that cannot be changed anymore." the brunette reprimanded sternly, but the palms wrapped around Marcus' shoulders were gentle and steady, holding him still when the world started to turn and sway. „You came back. You saved him and got the demon out. Now it's Tessa's turn. We have to trust her and Aunt Marge, they will bring him back."

„ I know, I know..." Marcus whispered and gave into temptation to lay his forehead onto Jonathan's shoulder, just to stop the world from toppling sideways. And to hide the tears threatening to fall any moment. A warm palm settled on his neck, exactly like the first day they met.

„ Please rest, it's been five days. You're swaying on your feet." Jonathan whispered into his ear stroking his nape and the small prickly hair there.

„ I'm resting now." the exorcist squeezed out as he put the mug down and fisted his hands in Jonathan's thick woollen sweater. It smelled like wood smoke, hot chocolate and the peculiar smell of cold in the late autumn. ' _He must've taken it form the hook by the door'_ Marcus wondered absently when arms wrapped around him carefully and pulled him close. He went without resistance, melting into the warm embrace. _Now_ the pesky tears decided to come out on their own accord, but there were no sobs, no wails, just the quiet voice of Jonathan cooing in his ears.

„ We'll get him back. We will... He'll be alright..."

Marcus lost the concept of time for a while, it was hard to tell if they stood there three minutes, or thirty minutes, but the tears drained his last strength. He barely remembered walking to the couch and lying down before a comforter settled around his shoulders and the lights went out in his mind.

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Just a small apology for the absence of Mouse, she'll come around next chapter for sure.

And one more thing, spiked hot chocolate is DELICIOUS and makes you tipsy awfully fast...Hot alcohol an all that :D

See you next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

Another chapter, friends, is finally here. Thank you for reading this far! It was supposed to be shorter, but kind of ended up as it is...sorry? XD

Also, Mouse is back! Have fun reading!

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 _4 days after Tomas' kidnapping._

Mouse woke up hazily to a soft light filtering through a faded light green curtain. Her neck pulsated in pain – lazy throbs travelling up her head and down into her shoulder. Surprisingly, she didn't feel any blood flowing...or drying anywhere. Gingerly lifting her slightly numb hands up the woman felt bandages wrapped around her neck and a band aid on her forehead. She was naked except for the sturdy black bra and shorts. ' _Thank God at least those are in place._ ' She thought sullenly and decided to try and get up. Wrapping herself in the sheet Mouse sneaked through the only door in the room, leading into a hallway. ' _I need to find my clothes...or any clothes in general_. ' The first room she stumbled into seemed to belong to a man – it was relatively tidy, only few clothes thrown on a chair and a couple of coffee mugs long forgotten on the bedside table. She picked up the discarded clothes but changed her mind after sniffing them. Not only had they smelt of sweat, oh no, every item had a distinctive stench of a wet horse. ' _First it was dogs, now horses...what the actual hell?_ '

A small sound from the hallway caught her off guard and she flattened herself right behind the door, scanning the room for anything remotely usable as a weapon. The bedside lamp was her best bet, which just showed how pathetic the situation was. When the visitor stepped through the doorway she literally jumped out in an attempt for surprise attack and didn't get her chance – the target shrieked and nearly ran into the wall.

„ Sweet baby Jesus! Woman, are you mad?! Don't kill me!"

„ Who are you and what are you doing here?" she demanded in a tone, that left no place for arguments.

„ What do you mean? It's my house! I'm Steven, Steven Moran, I saved you from whatever that was last night." the tall fellow spoke in a very quick and overly high voice. Now she recognized him, the same shabby and slightly curly hair.

„ Okay, Steven, who patched me up and where are my clothes?"

„ I sow up your neck. Don't panic, I'm a veterinarian and however awful it sounds, I'm better at stitches than most doctors. Your jeans were dirty so I washed them and the shirt...sorry, but there wasn't much left to save."

„ Wonderful." she sighed and leaned back against the door. Her head was swimming a little. "I want them back anyway, or you give me new ones. And I need to contact Vertigo, I assume you have a way to do that?"

„ I do, I do, just calm your shit, I'm afraid to move here!" he gestured around himself aimlessly and looked at her as if she might bite any moment. ' _What a skittish fellow_ ' she thought before lifting her one free hand up, the other was still holding the sheet.

„ I'm unarmed, what do you think I could do?"

„ I think you could beat me up without letting go of that sheet, with or without weapons...Man, I'm gonna kill him..." he said running his hands through the messy light brown hair and slowly sliding up the wall to stand."I'll just get you some clothes, yeah?"

„ Yes, yes, go, I want to speak to him. How long was I out?"

„ About twenty hours or so."

„ Twenty hours?" Mouse asked just to check she heard right. Now that was a waste of time...

„ More or less. Here, you can have my shirt, it's clean and I'll get your jeans in a sec." the man said stepping past her carefully and disappearing down the hall just to return a second later with folded blue jeans.

„ Thank you." she said taking the item, still slightly distrustful. If a professional exorcist can be integrated, so can a random person."When can I contact him?"

„ Don't know, I mean he should be back from his day job soon, so in, like, an hour maybe?"

„ Good."

„ I...er, was about to make dinner, you want some? It's just macaroni and cheese."

The hour sped by unnoticeable and Mouse sat in front of a laptop screen feeling like a stuffed chicken...She always had a healthy appetite and the food was tasty and _freshly made_. Her host seemed to have calmed down a little, though he nearly dropped his cup twice when she decided to cough.

When the connection was finally made a Guy Fawkes mask appeared on the screen.

„ Oh no, I'm not playing this game. Off with it." Mouse barked before the man (assuming it's a man) even had a chance to say anything.

„ And if I refuse?" said an obviously male voice from the other end of the line.

„ Then I will thank you for your help so far and see myself out."

„ Stubborn. Good riddance." he said completely unfazed, as if he'd expected that much, and took the mask off. Underneath hid a face of a surprisingly un-hacker like man. He had short, slightly curly hair, dirty blonde, bluish eyes and a little crooked nose. Fairly thin and slightly pale, but not wan in the slightest. So average you wouldn't look back on the street."My name is Cody Wilkins, nice to meet you Miss Eleanor Westworth."

„ Likewise, though I prefer Mouse. How in the name of God did you find my given name?"

„ I would be a poor researcher if I haven't. I also found your location after you contacted me. I was the one to call police, though they must have made a doughnut stop along the way, toothless dogs, or they would have been there earlier. My apologies."

„ I'm not complaining. Thanks for that, but there's one more favour I have to ask. I need you to find someone, my current partner, Tomas Ortega. We were attacked few days ago and got separated; I'd like to track him down as soon as possible." she said hoping the boy was still human and alive. That was first priority. Marcus would never forgive her if she managed to get him killed.

„ I'll see what I can do. The information you gave me panned out, though I managed to track the murder sprees back to two different sources, not one. Is that possible?" he asked acknowledging her expertise in this area.

„ It's not impossible...though that would mean they are divided or operating from two different camps. Two heads to chop off, more work for us. Anything else?" Mouse spoke in a hurry, rolling the new knowledge in her head.

„ One thing, actually. While I'll busy myself trying to find your friend, I'd like you to check something out in Utah. There's a spreading phenomenon of people walking up to churches and monasteries, calming God called them to exorcise demons. Most average folks - barbers, housewives, accountants, teenagers - claim they can fight demons. The closest case is in Utah, Salt Lake City. There's a small monastery there and a young lady, one...Sandra Garret" he double checked the name just to make sure "walked up to it about two weeks ago and refused to leave, claiming God had called her to be an exorcist."

„ Are you sure she's not a nutcase?" Mouse asked sceptically. She'd seen far too many fake preachers, prophets, who hear God, and even exorcists...

„ On a very good source I've found out she managed to get a demon out of a woman, who was in the monastery for that very reason. She did it in three hours. Is that possible?"

„ Hardly. Ether the demon was very weak, or it's a sham."

„ That's why I want you to look into it, you're capable of telling the difference." the hacker insisted.

„ Fine, but you do realize I have no money, no car and nothing to wear?" she spoke a little too harshly for her own ears, but the pain in her head was acting up and she would have been much happier to go looking for Tomas, rather than chasing after some screwball. Still... _'Don't look gifted horse in the teeth'_ she reminded herself sullenly ' _He saved your life, you might as well make a detour._ '

„ The car will be parked out front tomorrow morning, just don't expect nothing fancy. The money I'll transfer into Steve's account, he'll get it for you, won't you Stevie Wonder?" the blonde addressed her host sitting on a couch few paces away. When she turned the look on his face suggested he'd be more than happy to strangle the hacker.

„ Fuck you, Cody. I'm not playing your James Bond games any more, seriously! This is the last time." the veterinarian seethed looking at the screen glumly. This was clearly not the first time he's been used as a courier or a hotel.

„ Sure, sure." the blonde smiled widely without any conviction.

Just as promised, next morning she found a small, green Volkswagen standing outside. Steve left her to shower and sleep last night and came back with a good wad of money and an awful lavender sweater. She abhorred the very idea of wearing it, but the weather was cold enough so the nun eventually gave up and pulled it over her head. Thanking the obviously still grumpy veterinarian she hit the road again, just this time with a very strange mission ahead. ' _It will be a circus...Dancing monkeys and all_.' She thought glumly and resigned to see it through to the end.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Red rays of rising sun slithered over the living room floor, and up the furniture just to mercilessly burn Marcus' closed eyes. Reacting to the light he blinked slowly and instantly remembered what happened before he ended up on a couch. It was early evening then. Now the sun was _rising._ Quickly doing the math he nearly jumped off the couch and ran up the stairs to the attic just to freeze in the door frame. The whole space was cleared out, boxes and brooms, and the darn lawn mower stood in the corners and the middle was filled with a large circle made of... _salt?_ Small woman sat in the middle, directly in front of the same mattress Tomas had lain on before, just this time it was covered in clean sheets and the figure on it was shaven, washed, dressed, but still horribly unconscious. The sight ominously reminded him of a man readied for his last rites and Marcus desperately tried to push that parallel away to the darkest little corner of his mind.

Jonathan was still in the process of moving some boxes and only turned towards Marcus for a second. When the exorcist threw him an accusatory look, the man's ears turned surprisingly pink and he looked away quickly. Margery was checking Tomas' pulse.

When he came closer Marcus noticed Tessa's eyes closed and a syringe laid out on a plate before her.

„ Morning." he greeted no one in particular. Marge was the only one to react smiling in his direction."It's nice of you to let me sleep in.

„ Well, I did try to wake you couple of hours ago, but you just pulled the pillow over your head and refused to move an inch, so don't be all ruffled now, dove." she reprimanded gently and the man was left completely drained of ire. She had a very motherly vibe about her; it made him unable to sass her too much.

„ What's that?" he asked looking down at the syringe on the plate. It was clearly not meant for Tomas.

„ Etomidate." Tessa answered without opening her eyes. She sat in a cross legged position in front of the mattress and, by the look of it, meditated."It's an anaesthetic, to put me under. I'll need to go deep into the flow to find him."

Marcus stood and stared, not fully sure he grasps the terms. Then demanded out loud:

„ D'you mind telling me what's that supposed to mean? I'm no doctor, but that thing will leave you unconscious for a good while, by the dose of it."

„ It will. About seven to nine hours. I'll need all the time to find him and make sure he hasn't fused with the flow yet, though it's too short of a time for that." she explained as if it was common sense. Then turned and realized it wasn't. "Look, thre is heaven and hell in your world view, in mine there is more. Different planes of existence for demons and humans and bodhisattvas, or ascended masters. Tomas most likely stepped into the common consciousness of humanity, a higher level of this plane. Demons cannot get there, frankly, humans also can't, with some exceptions."

„ People like you two?" Marcus asked, intrigued now and willing to squeeze out every drop of information he can get "We thought his gift came from God, and then from demons. Where does it come from, really?"

„ I don't know, but it's definitely not a gift from demons, though they can use it. We can walk into anyone's mind without permission, so we're the master key. When a demon wants to possess a body, they need a way into the mind, a crack or chink in the person's armour. With us, that's unnecessary, that's why they want us."

„ So you could lead a demon into anyone just like that?" he snapped his fingers for emphasis.

„ Yup, though I never will. I'll tell you all about it, when we have him back." she reassured smiling not only with her lips, but the whole face, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Then she turned to the other two people in the room and gave directions "When I'm out don't try to wake me, don't move me, even if I change position or fall over. Don't take me or Tomas out of the circle and don't blow out the candles, got it?"

„ Clear as day, girlie." the elderly woman answered first and stepped out of the circle "He's stable, but in a state similar to sleep. Can we keep one person in the room to watch over you two?"

„ Sure."

„ I'll stay first." Marcus said without skipping a beat.

„ Alright, but we'll change in a couple of hours." Jonathan piped in and got a scorching glare for his effort.

When they all stood quietly to the side and Marge had already administered the drug into Tessa's vein, her eyes turned white, just like Tomas when he's seeing a vision. After that a palpable silence filled the room.

Marcus sat with his back to one stack of boxes and stared at the people in the circle of salt. He's always been a little unconventional for an exorcist, but this was entirely uncharted territory even for him. All he could do was to put his faith in God and pray quietly, long enough for his fingers to grow numb.

In a while he heard footsteps up the stairs and a cup of coffee was placed in front of him on the floor.

„ Time to change. This one's not spiked." Jonathan spoke quietly and sat beside him on the cold floorboards."Any movement?"

„ None." he answered reluctantly. The thing was...he wasn't actually angry. Rational side of his brain knew he needed the rest, probably ought to thank the man, even, but the other half was self preservation instinct and Jonathan managed to make him vulnerable so easily. He hated himself for allowing it and Jonathan for being able to tear down his walls, which made communication uncomfortable to say the least. "How long it's been?"

„ Three hours. Aunt Marge is making waffles if you're interested."

„ I'm always interested in anything that has an unhealthy amount of sugar in it." the exorcist tried for humour and got up to leave.

Waffles were nice, the ground floor warm and he ended up on the couch sketching in one of the smaller pads he brought with him. First it was trees, then a bird (not a crow this time) sitting in the branches and eventually the memory of broad shoulders hunched over a surface littered with small electronics, tinkering away. As hurried footsteps rolled down the stairs he lifted his head up in alarm.

„ Folks, something's up. They are...moving, seizing, I don't know if we should move them." Jonathan spilled out in a hurry. When they ran up the stairs ready to administer first aid Tomas sat on the mattress, staring in front of himself wide eyed. Tessa laid on her side blinking back to consciousness and all the candles were blown out.

„ Check if it's him." she said weakly, voice cracking over words."Something nasty tried to chase us back. I hope it didn't catch us.

„ Tomas?" Marcus said gently, and walked closer with his hands outstretched in a soothing way, palms up. Big brown eyes turned on him and the reaction was instant.

„ No! No, no, no, Dios Mio, no quiero más! _Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo. Santificado sea tu nombre. Venga tu reino. Hágase tu voluntad en la tierra como en el cielo. Danos hoy nuestro pan de cada día. Perdona nuestras ofensas, como también nosotros perdonamos a los que nos ofenden. No nos dejes caer en tentación y líbranos del mal..."_

Marcus froze in place, terror filling his veins at the sight. Tomas was looking at him like he's the most horrifying demon the younger man has ever seen. The Lord's prayer spilling over his lips frantically Tomas scrambled back out of the circle until his back hit a large wooden crate.

„ Tomas, it's me, you're safe, easy..." the older man tried again, in the shocked silence. No one dared to move and the formerly possessed priest just stared at him with a look of a trapped animal.

„ Maybe you should take a breather." It was Tessa's voice, close by. She had managed to scrap herself together and was standing up steadily. Marcus doubted. Either this was Tomas and he was terrified, or this was a demon and he didn't want Marcus anywhere near him. It seemed more like the former.

„ Go, have a puff and then come back, yeah?" she insisted a little louder but Marcus still couldn't move. Hands descended on his shoulders and he turned to look at Margery smiling at him gently.

„ Come on, dove. It's been a while since I had one and I know where Jonathan hides his stash, let's go get ourselves some." she said steering Marcus away for a minute. He faintly heard someone knocking on the floor as he left.

Tessa sat cross legged few meters from Tomas and knocked on the floor boards again - it was their rhythm. If he recognizes it she can be relatively sure it's him. The familiar sound can also make the terrified priest calm down a bit before he worked himself into a heart attack.

Hesitantly Tomas lifted his hand and beat the same rhythm on the floor with his slightly bloody knuckles.

„ There you are. Hey, knock-knock-man. I'm Tessa, nice to meet you." she said softly but stayed away for now.

„ You were on the other side of the wall?" Tomas asked, his voice scratchy from being unused for nearly a week.

„ Yup. How are you feeling?"

„ I...I don't know. Good, I think..." he trailed off looking around for the first time and allowing the reality to settle around him. It didn't feel as real as it used to - now it seemed strange to be separate from everything else around him, trapped in his own skin. He studied his hands with fascination when the woman spoke again.

„ Great. You have some badass friends." she commented smiling broadly.

„ I...Where is Mouse?"

„ Who?"

„ The woman I was travelling with. Where is she?" he asked dread covering his skin in gooseflesh.

„ There was no woman, just two men. Marcus and Jonathan, you remember them?"

„ I asked agent Archer to find me..."

„ Well he sure found you and barged in guns blazing. Marcus was pretty impressive too. I sort of tagged along when they broke you out." Tessa explained, trying to make him see the full picture and stop panicking.

„ What is Marcus doing here?" Tomas asked half to himself, not wanting to think about how he'll have to meet the man. Look at him. "Never mind, I need a phone, I have to call Mouse..."

„ Hold on, I think it can be arranged, but first let Marge take a look at you."

The priest just nodded and stayed obediently still, letting the elderly woman poke and prod his vessel until quiet footsteps walking up the stairs reached his ears. The moment froze in time as Marcus slowly walked up to the door and stood caught in the middle.

„ Tomas?" he spoke barely above whisper, blue eyes unsure and a little scared. It dawned upon the younger man how rarely he had seen his mentor so defenceless."Can I come in?"

„ ...Marcus." the whole trope of fears, shame and discomfort he had envisioned in his head flew out the window, washed away by the force of sheer relief.

Tomas' legs got to work on their own violation and he stumbled up and towards the lean figure in the doorway, tripping a few times along the way. Thankfully Marcus caught him midway, clearly intending to help him up, but Tomas threw his hands around the familiar body and refused to let go.

Marcus felt the air being squeezed out of his lungs by the sheer power of the embrace and released all fears with the forced exhale. Tomas still trusted him enough to do this, to hold him like a lifeline and squeeze his face into the crook of Marcus' neck, breathing deeply. The hot puffs of air on his skin hooked Marcus to reality and assured that it's all real, Tomas is back. He pulled Tomas face away a few inches, holding it between his own trembling palms and just looked. However battered and gaunt, with sharp lines carved into his formerly sweet and young features, he was back alive and that was all that mattered. Brown eyes were looking up at him with such joy and relief, he wanted to cry all over again, to laugh, to kiss him...all at once. As if seeing his last desire written over Marcus' face Tomas pulled away, directing his gaze down, almost like he was the one ashamed.

„ There, there, Tomas, you're alright, you're safe." he spoke gently, trying to push the improper thoughts aside. It was relatively easy when the body in his arms slumped forward, knees giving out. „Whoa, I've got you."

„ I'm fine, I'm fine." Tomas tried to argue and stand up on his own. It took great amount of effort, but he managed to stand straight. „ Marcus, what are you doing here?"

„ I..." Marcus started uncertainly before another voice joined the conversation.

„ I asked him for help, Father Ortega." spoke the man standing in the doorway. He looked very different from the one Tomas remembered. Official clothing was replaced by warm and comfortable houseclothes and the beard has grown out considerably, though it was definitely the same man.

„ Agent Archer, thank you for coming to get me." He tried to smile, but it ended in a grimace when his legs refused to hold his weight.

„ You're very welcome, but maybe we should move this party downstairs? It's warmer."

The desire to demand explanations rose high in Marcus. He wanted to know why. Why Tomas didn't call him for help, why he put himself in danger...but his health came first, so with some help from Tessa they moved him down to the living room. The fire was cracking happily in the hearth and Margery soon busied herself making tea. Feeling of relief in Marcus' body barely drowned out the anger, so he sat quietly beside Tomas and watched Tessa chatter to him about the captivity, trying to help him put a timeline to all the things that happened.

„ So the red lady came to you too?" he asked staring at the young woman. She was clearly not a nun, that much was obvious.

„ She came to all of us. We were four in the beginning, then only two, you and me."

„ Did you find out anything about her? I tried, but I couldn't find the host and the demon wouldn't tell me it's name..."

„ There was no host, the spirit was fully fused." Tessa started to explain but Tomas interrupted eagerly.

„ There is always a host, even the integrated have their soul trapped somewhere!"

„ Only the ones, who are body fused. The poor chaps who are soul fused merge with the demon."

„ You're saying there's two kinds of integration?" Marcus asked from the corner of the couch, he's been quiet for a while.

„ I guess you call it that way, yes. There are like stages to it, in my experience. When they are body fused the body is fully run by the demon, the third pupil appears, but the soul is still there, just trapped, like a prisoner in their own body. When they are soul fused, the host fully merges with the demon and it's irreversible."

„ Then why the church doesn't know about it?"

„ Maybe you don't let your people fight from the inside out?" she asked skeptical „The difference can only be seen from the inside of the victim's mind."

„ Oh brilliant, so now we all should play demon's psychiatrist?" Marcus retorted affronted by the very thought.

„ Maybe, if it works?" the young woman stood her ground.

„ Let's leave it for later, yes?" Tomas asked trying to diffuse the situation. Diplomacy was always his forte. „ Did you find any other information?"

„ Now that you mentioned it, the spirit never revealed its identity, but when I asked it said ' _I am the protector of all women, the harlots, the whores. Monster of the night they called me, the screeching owl'_ or along the lines of that. Any idea what it means?"

Tomas looked at Marcus and the man stared back, pale as a sheet.

„ There is only one demon, mentioned in the Bible as 'The screeching owl'...Lilith, the queen of demons." Marcus spoke quietly. That very moment a small sound from the direction of the window caught their attention.

A large grey owl sat on the windowsill staring into the house with eyes as black as the night...


	8. Chapter 8

Two days have passed since they saw the owl in the window and Marcus managed to make it go away by reciting St. Michael's prayer. The tension was thick as fog in the house back then, truthfully it wasn't much better now - they were still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Demons didn't come swarming in, however, so they spent the time shuffling around the house morosely.

After the initial flood of information they gathered from one another, the conversations grew less and less frequent, especially between Marcus and Tomas. The younger man seemed to covertly avoid being alone with his mentor for any length of time and Marcus couldn't, for the life of him, understand why. The younger man spent his time meditation with Tessa or praying, preferably alone.

Perhaps he was grieving. The older exorcist had been reluctant to tell him about Mouse's passing, but still had to do it, when Tomas repeatedly insisted on calling her. News didn't go over very well - it left Tomas almost boneless, sitting on a chair by the dining table, with his hands covering his face. When he spent over half an hour that way Marcus had tried to literally pry him off the chair, but Tomas pushed his hands away:

"Leave me. It's my fault, all of it. I was not careful enough. She told me again and again to be more careful, but I didn't listen. It should have cost me my life, not her." he spoke barely audibly. The idea, that he would so readily give up his life made Marcus both sad and furious, but he tried to be gentle none the less.

"Come now, this is no more your fault, than any of ours. Blaming yourself for it won't do you, or her, much good. C'mon, let's get you to bed."

"I don't want a bed, I want to get back to work! The names I've heard could lead us to her and she maybe can lead us to him." he demanded loudly, standing up with hands on the table to keep him steady.

"In the state you're in? You can barely stand! One death's not enough for you, so you wanna run about tryin' to kill yourself? Is that it?!"

"If it gets me closer to him, yes!" Tomas nearly shouted, eyes burning bright in the exhausted face. That gave Marcus a pause. He just stared for a long moment trying to hear anything other than what he heard and when he couldn't... he didn't hold the words in any longer:

"You think she'd want this?! You following after her into death?!" he barked loudly. "You were the one to say there's so much work to do, or have you forgotten God's plan already?"

"My life is his, if Lord wants me to live, I'll live. If He wants me to die, I'll die." Tomas spoke with calmness that left Marcus almost shivering on the spot. It wasn't just words and he could see it. His Tomas, the one he walked away from, may have said it, but he was afraid, so very afraid...and this man in front of him wasn't. What has she done to him?

"Tomas..."

"You were the one to tell me 'Put your trust in God' so I did. I still do. Give me work, let me be useful..."

"You need rest, work can wait a day or two." Marcus spoke, lowering his tone. Tomas was hurting and he could understand it, feel it reflected in himself, like a thorn stuck right between his ribs, but couldn't let him be reckless. He would not survive losing them both.

"Wait for what? That demon running around in Bennett's skin, taking one more life? This war is ugly as it is, Marcus, it doesn't need to get worse!"

"If it was so bad why didn't you ask for help?" the tawny blonde blurted out without thinking it through. It was the one thing he wanted to ask from the moment Tomas opened his eyes, and couldn't stop now "Why didn't you call me?!"

"You were out!" Tomas raised his voice standing up, and instantly regretted his decision, slumping back into the chair. He continued much quieter "You told me you were compromised and it's dangerous to do our work if you feel that way, so I...You willingly chose to leave, Marcus, and later...I...I didn't want you to see it."

"See what?" Marcus asked with a good dash of apprehension, Tomas' tone bid nothing good.

"The work is not like you remember it, we have no time to repeat the Ritual for a week or two...So I walk in and do my job. Either it works in a couple of days, or we end it."

The words 'end it' echoed loudly in Marcus' head and he hoped against hope it didn't mean what he thought...Had she forced Tomas to kill? The thought alone made every hair rise on his skin. 'Is that what they've been doing for half a year, running about killing people?' he thought, frozen on the spot. Tomas broke the silence first:

"Do you still want to help? Taking one life was enough for you to feel unworthy...In that case I am already damned." Without another word he stood up, took the laptop left lying on the coffee table and strode towards the one spare bedroom, at the time given to him for recovery. "At least I'll do some research on the names. You will have to let me move one day or another, or I will do it without permission."

Only when the door slammed shut did Marcus stumble to the nearest chair and fell into it with shaky palms running through his hair repeatedly. Mouse was dead, and it's a sin to speak ill of the dead, but he wanted to howl at her, to demand explanations. How could she do this?

The rage bubbled in his body, scalding every inch from the inside out, making him jittery with the force of it. He had to move. Walking around the living room Marcus picked things up randomly and placed them back where they belonged, at least more or less.

He's been through every item in the room thrice already. The books on the shelves, the old porcelain lamp on the commode, the small cabinet with glass doors filled with little sweet nothings from trips and fairs and what not...Nothing managed to sooth him, so giving up on it the man strode straight through the door without even dressing.

There was a punching bag out back, by the garage, probably left over from the days Jonathan spent here as a teenager. The snow was gone and the ground was slightly damp but not wet, so it was reasonably comfortable to stand there and punch it. Again and again, until he was left winded and pink from the chest up.

"Looks like you two had a tiff." came the voice behind him.

"Bugger off. I'm bad company right now." the exorcist grumbled, not in the right mood for company.

"Not a chance. If you punch it, at least do it right. Put your left foot back more and lift your elbow. "

"Never had a problem with it as it was."

"Then you've been fighting amateurs." Jonathan said lightly and didn't flinch when Marcus turned to glower at him "Turn around and hit me instead. It's much more satisfying when the target can actually bleed."

"Are you asking for a split lip?" he asked mockingly.

"Only if you manage to touch me." there was a spark of mischief playing in the stormy eyes and that posed enough challenge for Marcus to try his best.

The next hour ended up being the most physically exerting experience he had in probably years, but the anger was gone by the end of it and he did manage to give Jonathan a split lip. Marcus even had half a mind to apologise for it, but the brunette just laughed playfully and licked his lips, making them red and glistening. A primal kind of pang spiked through Marcus' abdomen leaving him slightly breathless and desperate to kiss those red lips, to taste the light tang of blood on them. The thought scared him a good bit, so he quickly found an excuse to extract himself from the little game. It was too dangerous.

A shower and a chat with Tessa finally calmed him down enough to stretch out on the couch and fall asleep. His back has long since healed under the watchful eye of the house owner, so it was comfortable to sleep on it again.

The last thing he remembered was looking at the closed door of Tomas' room.

 _Next there was a red light, almost like one of those motel rooms with a neon sign shining through the window, but the room was not a motel. It was his childhood room, the old torn wallpaper with water stains above the bed._

 _Surge of overwhelming fear, the kind only child can experience, flowed over him making every limb tremble like a leaf in the wind._

 _Suddenly Tomas was with him, holding him from behind, pulling his body close and whispering gently, soothingly. His arms were so strong, so steady around Marcus, all he wanted was to just melt into them, become liquid, and seep into Tomas' body, so he wouldn't have to be alone in this horrid place._

 _When he looked down at the hands clasped around his waist they were pale and large, so unlike Tomas'...so Marcus turned and saw Jonathan's face smiling at him. That same spark was playing in his eyes and the lips were still tainted blood red when the man leaned in and kissed him. It was deep and slow - the kind of kiss that makes one's knees weak and skin hot, the bone melting intensity of it left Marcus incoherent. But when he finally opened his eyes, it was not Jonathan, but Tomas looming over him, his eyes dark and hungry._

 _The shock sent him reeling back and out the door only to stumble into the kitchen and freeze mid step when he saw Tomas standing there with those crimson lips and a bloody hammer in his hands. Mouse's body twitching at his feet. The sudden weight of a rifle in his hands felt like a punishment of some kind, an inevitability. He tried so hard not to pull the trigger but couldn't stop it and a loud scream ripped itself out of Marcus' throat as the blood started to run down Tomas' neck._

Then there was a sting on his cheek, sharp and burning, so he opened his eyes completely disoriented.

"Marcus! Marcus, wake up!" Tomas' voice was so near and still seemed so far away, like listening under water.

"Tomas...?" he asked, bleary eyed. Only then it dawned upon the exorcist that he was standing in the middle of the kitchen area with Tomas holding him firmly by the shoulders.

"Thank God. Marcus...do you know where you are? Remember what happened?" Tomas asked attentively. There was no blood running down his neck and Marcus felt like crying in relief.

"I...don't know. Must've had a dream, a..a horrid one, but I can't remember it now..." and it was true, he really couldn't. All he managed to remember was the sight of Tomas bleeding out and the weight of a gun in his hands.

"Okay, why don't you sit down, yes?" Without waiting for an answer he bodily pushed Marcus into the closest chair and went to the sink, grabbing a glass along the way. The groggy man could hear faucet running and then there was a beat of silence, a sort of pause before Tomas presented him with a glass of water. It quickly dawned upon Marcus what that pause meant, it was his own trick after all.

"You brought me holy water." He said blinking up at the younger man owlishly. Tomas froze for a moment before his eyes turned hard.

"Yes, I have. Drink."

"What in God's name makes you think..." Tomas interrupted him mid sentence.

"Drink." He pushed the glass forward to get the point across. A little taken aback Marcus obeyed, staring at Tomas wide eyed the whole time. Nothing happened, but they both knew the reaction might not be instant. After few minutes of tense silence Tomas let out a shaky breath and let his head fall down on his hands folded atop the kitchen isle. "I'm sorry, Marcus, but I had to be sure."

"'s alright." Marcus answered trying not to notice the disheveled dark hair and almost fever bright eyes. "Why you thought that's a good idea, again?"

"Marcus, I found you standing in the middle of the kitchen with your eyes open, talking to yourself!"

"Was I doing anything? Did I make a racket?" the exorcist asked carefully, already imagining the mortifying situation of waking the entire house with his bloody night terrors.

"No, no, you were just speaking." Tomas said wearily rubbing his hands over his face "When no one answered I walked out to see what was going on."

"You weren't sleeping?"

"I don't sleep." Came the plain and simple answer. It took Marcus a moment to comprehend it.

"What d'you mean you don't sleep?!" he asked strictly, putting his hand on Tomas cheek to make the younger man look at him.

"I...Since I came here I...haven't slept yet." Tomas confessed with his head down, like it was his worst sin.

"Why not? Is it the dreams? Do you dream again?" Marcus demanded concern written all over his face, but Tomas just shook his head in answer. "Then what is it?"

There was a long pause of silence as Tomas simply stared at his palms, tracing the lines in them with his eyes as if seeing that part of himself for the first time. When he looked back up at Marcus the look in his eyes was so familiar, it broke the older man's heart. It was the watery gaze filled with fear he got used to seeing after Tomas had a very bad vision.

"I'm afraid, that...if I fall asleep I'll wake up back in that cell...and all this would be just a dream, just another vision. I had so many dreams, that I got away, found you...that you saved me..." when he looked back up at Marcus there was a bright kind of desperation in the warm brown eyes "Marcus...I don't know how many more times I can take it before I go mad. Please tell me this is real. Please tell me I will not wake up in the dark again..."

Large tears spilled over Tomas' eyes and Marcus couldn't stand it any longer – he surged forward and pulled Tomas into his chest, holding on for dear life. "You ain't gonna wake up anywhere but here, yeah? You hear me?"

"Yes." Was the small hushed answer, whispered against his collarbone.

Marcus squeezed him tighter and ran his hands over Tomas' back. Was it always so easy to feel the little knobs of his backbone? He didn't think so, but couldn't be sure – he'd avoided touching Tomas too much after all. Temptation was a bad companion for an exorcist. Now he felt stronger. God was with him, always, he could feel Him like a small buzzing in the back of his skull, like a gentle tug constantly on his heart. The feeling he had long forgotten.

It only grew stronger when Marcus touched Tomas and that made him positive that the Almighty didn't mind. But the bigger problem now was to get Tomas to sleep somehow – the body in his arms was exhausted, but the mind behind it seemingly refused to calm down.

He stood and pulled Tomas with him, herding him towards the couch where they both sat down heavily – the younger man refused to let go of him.

"Back when I was still training to be an exorcist there was this boy among us." Marcus said quietly with his cheek pressed to Tomas' hair "He slept in the same room with me and could never fall asleep properly. I never asked why, none of us were there out of a good life...but he used to say this prayer just before sleep, every night. It seemed to help him. Do you wanna try it?"

"Yes...I think I do. What prayer was it?" Tomas asked groggily, he was already one foot in the sandman's kingdom.

"An old one, say it with me." The exorcist whispered running his fingers over Tomas' scalp.

"Watch, dear Lord, with those who wake or watch or weep tonight, and give your angels charge over those who sleep."

 _"Watch, dear Lord, with those who wake or watch or weep tonight, and give your angels charge over those who sleep."_ Tomas repeated into the crook of Marcus' neck.

"Tend your sick ones, O Lord Jesus Christ."

 _"Tend your sick ones, O Lord Jesus Christ."_

"Rest your weary ones, bless your dying ones, soothe your suffering ones."

 _"Rest your weary ones, bless your dying ones, soothe your suffering ones."_ Tomas spoke barely audibly, tears still soaking into Marcus' shirt.

"Shield your joyous ones, and all for your love's sake. Amen."

 _"Shield your joyous ones, and all for your love's sake..."_ Amen was lost on the younger priest – by the time he was already asleep on Marcus' shoulder.

That's how Tessa found them in the early morning when she got up to go to town before making breakfast. Tomas had curled up into a ball in the warm space under Marcus' arm and the taller priest slumbered with his head on the backrest. Quietly she placed a comforter around them both and tiptoed out the door.

They deserve every minute of rest they can get before all hell breaks loose upon their heads, and she knew the moment was coming – peace never lasted long. Today or tomorrow they will have to move, it was an unspoken agreement among them.

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The cobblestones were cold and moist under her feet as Mouse crouched in the half-light of the cellar of St. Agatha's monastery. She was getting tired of cellars, honestly – nearly every mission ended her in one murky underground space or another.

Further towards the main nave the floor was dry and there was light, from the window high up as well as the candles. It created bright circle of light in the middle of which two figures were huddled together. A young woman sat cross-legged on the floor with a middle aged man's head in her lap. Crimson red hair stretched out behind her in a braid almost reaching the floor. The dirty body of the man, covered in sores and lacerations from the effort to purge the demon was now eerily still under the gentle fingers, quietly tracing patterns on his skin.

There were no prayers, no shouting, no crucifixes, just white fingers slowly sliding over dirty skin, leaving no trail behind, at least on the human body. Demons seemed to memorise every movement as if it burns them.

Mouse has been a guest here for an entire week already and it was the third successful exorcism during that time. The speed was unheard of, as well as the amount of demons possessing people. The invasion was slowly beginning, so despite her lack of understanding of this particular way of exorcising demons, she was happy to report back it's not a hoax.

The memory of her first encounter with Sandra was somewhat ridiculous, because she literally had to wait behind closed gates of the monastery for nearly two days just to be allowed in. Eventually, when she started screaming and singing Bon Jovi under the windows they allowed her in and even offered her tea, just to keep the woman quiet. Apparently she has no singing voice, or so they say.

The nun, who came to meet her was about Mouse's age, but the sharp dark green eyes were steady and sparkling with wit. Monastery itself was very much unlike the one Mouse remembers from her youth – spacious, new-age-y and full of light. All the corridors were made of glass and stretched out to show off the gardens below and around the entire premises. They were a bit listless now, due to the season, but the grey light was still far better than the confines of old castle-like monasteries. That's why Mouse was shocked when the woman, who met her, led her down under the spacious façade to reveal ancient stone stairs leading down into catacombs. 'This used to be a church since eighteen hundreds.' Sister Helena told her. She was second in command here and the conversation with her left Mouse more than a little stunned. She remembered every word like it was yesterday:

"I've heard you have a bit of a wonder locked up behind that impressive gate of yours."

"Miracle is more like it. She is under our protection, have no illusions of spiriting her away, if that's the reason you're here, sister." The woman spoke frankly eyeing Mouse over the small distance of a long wooden dining table.

"I'm just sightseeing, don't worry, and your girl is the newest show in town. How long has she been here?" Mouse asked lightly over a cup of hot tea. After spending every waking hour outside, clawing at the walls of the darn place the warm liquid felt like a well earned prize.

"Nearly three weeks now. I can't believe it's been that long, but with the inflow of the infested, we have little time to dally. She walked up to our door the same day our exorcist, Sister Cecilia, passed away during an exorcism." The woman explained calmly, fingers playing with the cup in front of her. She was yet to take a sip. "We were mourning when this girl with heavy leather boots, red hair, tattoos and an assortment of piercings stood before the gates and just wouldn't go. I sent one sister after another to shoo her away. Eventually I lost patience with the mockery and walked out myself. She told me what she told the others, that God sent her here to exorcise demons."

"She just declared that? Out of the blue? And you believed her?" Mouse asked incredulous.

"Of course not! I scolded her for abusing the name of God for such lies and demanded her to leave, bus she refused - over and over again. I left her by the gates overnight, and she still wouldn't budge, so eventually I walked out at seven in the morning and changed tactics - told her, that if she wants to be an exorcist she'll have to be a nun and nuns are not permitted to wear studded leather jackets, piercings and so on." After that the woman's gaze suddenly turned unfocused, as if she was remembering the very moment, seeing it in front of her eyes. Moue sat quietly and didn't bother to ask anything, it was obvious Sister Helen will continue on her own, and she did. "You know, when I was a young girl, just freshly into the monastery, without my wows yet, I admired Joan of Arc. I used to lie in bed and wonder what she looked like to the people of her time, a strange girl, walking up to highborn men demanding to be allowed to lead armies because God told her so. Now I know what it looks like." After another beat of silence the woman looked straight at Mouse, green eyes alight with the kind of faith that leads people into death unwavering. "She stripped." The woman said with a small sigh of disbelief.

"She what?" Mouse asked, suddenly loosing the train of thought. 'Whoa, whoa, did I miss something here?' she thought backtracking the conversation to its beginning.

"You heard me. She stripped in the middle of the sidewalk, people passing by. Took off her jacked and threw it to the ground, then took out her piercings one after another and eventually unlaced those horrendous shoes, stepped out of them and walked past me into the monastery _barefoot_. In the end of October. All I could do was stand there and watch her go."

Mouse sat in silence for a second. This kind of thing just didn't happen. These were not biblical times, with saints sprouting at every corner. Or perhaps that's exactly what it was, she thought suddenly. 'This is the end of days, and we are living it' she thought with a full body shudder. "What happened then? Did she have some kind of proof?"

"No, but she walked the corridors as if she knew them by heart and ended up at the door to the catacombs without guidance. I remember running after her just to find the girl standing there with her palm flat on the door. 'She is there' she told me, and it was true, the infested woman was below. After that I just took her by the hand and led her to Mother Seraphina. You can see the rest for yourself."

And she did see, the same day she spent every waking minute staring at the young woman from the shadows of a side alcove. The current possessed, a young girl, would yell and try to attack her, but the moment Sandra's hands landed on her skin, the possessed would just sag and slide to the ground. At first it took Mouse a while to figure out what the hell was the woman doing. The older nun came closer carefully to see Sandra writing in holy water in the infested girl's skin. That in itself was not too surprising. The thing was, Mouse soon realised, that she was writing in Aramaic.

The whole insane trip led her to the current moment, where she stood outside the gate with cell phone pressed to her ear waiting for Cody to pick up.

"Speak." Came the voice from the speakers and so she did.

"She's the real deal. I have no idea how, but it works, I've seen it."

"Good. I think I found your friend, or both our friends to be exact. Make your way to Montana. I'll give you further instructions when you're there." Strict, clear instructions left Mouse a little flabbergasted. Even she wasn't used to this sort of treatment. "Be careful Minnie Mouse." The hacker added almost fondly and hung up before she could say anything else.

It took a few minutes of string at her phone blankly for Mouse to start moving, indignant flush all over her face. 'He's going to pay for it. Dearly.' She said to herself, slamming the door of her tiny car shut.

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See you next chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

Finally after such a long pause I'm done with another chapter! Thank you for having the patience with me and my crazy life :D Unfortunately this chapter comes out on a sad day - our beloved Exorcist has been canceled. So screw FOX. Hopefully some other network will pick it up and in the mean time we have our own imaginations to amuse ourselves!

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The old door was creaking loudly as it opened, the hinges whining like they're about to let out their last breath. It was only reasonable - there were no men in the house to take care of them. At least hadn't been for a long time, now she had three. Margery Bell had long forgotten what it feels like to have so many people in her house – she never had children, lost the chance early on. When you marry at the age of eighteen, all starry eyed and in love, no one tells you there is a chance you'll be a widow by twenty one. That's why she couldn't believe it when it happened, even if she was the one to stand by his bed in the last few months. Lung cancer works fast.

Every man that came hunting for her hand in Harry's absence seemed like a faint shadow of her husband, a cheap replacement, so she sent them all howling and made her own way in life.

Now, over fifty years later, she had a career and a real estate ownership under her belt, but her most important achievement in life stood not three meters away, fiddling with her suitcase wheels – one of them was stuck.

She may not have given birth to a child, but she had raised one.

The night her best friend Lizzie came running to her house with her five year old son had been a stormy one. Late November. She stood there with wide, red rimmed eyes, pressing a skinny, long limbed boy to her chest.

He took an assault rifle and pointed it at them, she said. The bruises on her wrists were distinctively similar to hand prints. They were awfully out of place on her white pianist hands.

Lizzie left her little Johnny there and went back to talk some sense into her husband – well respected Captain William Archer. In a few days she took the boy back…and brought him over not a month later.

It became an arrangement. When her beloved husband came back home and took to reminiscence his glorious army days with a bottle of scotch she would put her son on the bus and send him over. Until one night he came by his own volition.

That night had also been stormy. Mid July with thunder and lightning – all hell's bells parade. Through the racket she barely heard someone knocking on her door at three in the morning. When Margery had crawled out of bed, she took the small revolver out of the drawer just in case. Burglars usually didn't knock.

She remembered that moment as if it was yesterday – the cold wind sweeping through the door, carrying droplets of rain into the house, flashes of white and pink lightning and a figure, drenched from head to toe. A scrawny sixteen year old stood there in his shabby long hair, dripping wet, the weight of a stuffed backpack held on one shoulder.

Johnny. Her bright, quiet, kind hearted boy stood before her trembling in the cold, with his eyes hard. He told her before even entering the house.

' _I kissed a boy'_ he had said ' _more than once. I think I like kissing boys. Dad found us in the shed. He told me he'll shoot me if I ever set a foot on his land again._ '

He didn't even ask to stay, just stood there waiting for her verdict.

That night she drew him into the house and hugged him tight…and now he was fixing her suitcase wheel and about to walk her out the same door. An extended visit to her recently widowed sister was long overdue. It was for her own safety, he told her, to make sure nothing came knocking when they leave. The problem was it was not her safety that bothered her.

All these people were in her life just over a week, but they became so precious in that short moment of time. A band of rogue soldiers, all fighting their own battles.

The young man with a soft smile and boyish black curls, who wonders the house at night like a ghost.

The tiny, fierce girl, who managed to be held a prisoner for a month and didn't break apart completely, but hated to be alone in any room for longer than ten minutes.

And of course the exorcist – a weary looking man with scarred hands and gentle eyes. That one she came to love more than the rest, just because it was plain to see - life didn't dish out enough love for him. So much so, that now he didn't know how to accept it anymore. Turning Margery reached her hands out to him:

"Come here, dove, let me squeeze you enough to make you remember it 'till we meet again." He obliged, smiling sheepishly. When the lanky frame pressed into her chest she held him tight and whispered "You take care of yourself, dove, hear me? Be good. And if you ever have no place to go, remember you're always welcome in my home. Anytime, day or night, just knock." She pressed a small kiss to the man's temple and he quivered lightly before squeezing back.

"I will. Thank you, Margery, for everything." Marcus spoke quietly, biting the side of his cheek to keep his eyes from watering. This woman gave them shelter, food and the kind of love mother usually reserves for her children. It felt ridiculously good to bask in it for a short moment and equally painful to let it go.

"You're welcome. And I mean it, don't be a stranger." She said before letting go and walking up to the next rascal in a row. The bob of black hair greeted her at eye level."My dear girl, you're the reasonable one, so keep this band of idiots in line. And text me, for Christ's sake."

"Text you? These morons are likely to make enough trouble to warrant an email nearly every day!" Tessa said smiling broadly. When her eyes started to sting she buried herself quickly in Marge's shoulder and squeezed "Thank you so much. Really." Without giving the woman a chance to answer she let go and nearly ran to the car. "I'll get the engine started."

"Are you done smothering people?" Jonathan asked seemingly finished with the stubborn wheel.

"This is my house, young man, and I will smother people as long as I please. Your turn is coming, too." Marge said smiling broadly at the supposedly dreary expression on the brunettes face. She knew better than to believe it for a second. The need to hug her boy suddenly felt so strong, almost as desperate as breathing. Still, she'll save him for last. The young priest came towards her himself and took her hands gently. His palms seemed warm but the fingers had become a little cracked and on some places calloused, like the skin was recently forced to harden.

"Mrs. Bell, thank you so much for letting us stay, you didn't have to do that. Such kindness should always be repaid somehow, but I have nothing to offer, so all I can do is pray for you daily from now on."

"Father Tomas, really, you don't have to. I was happy to have you all around, it surely made my boring old life a little more colourful…And honestly, I think there are more important things to pray for right now." Marge reassured smiling a little crocked smile. She squeezed his palms and reminded the young man sternly "I you want to pay me back, make sure to take care of yourself and one another. How about that?"

"I promise to do my best." Tomas replied smiling, he looked at their joined hands and almost felt the emotions seep from her body into his, like osmosis was somehow happening. Ever since the moment he came back from the higher plane it felt like this – like he's not quite separate from other people. It was distracting and unnerving, but he couldn't just stop at will, so instead Tomas tried to learn to live with it. The distraction actually was quite useful – it was helping him not to think of Marcus too much, not to look at him too often. Even now he could feel the blue eyes on his face but instead chose to watch Margery squeezing the life out of a man almost twice her height…or at least trying to.

"I hope I don't need to tell you to watch out for yourself, boy. You know better. But still, don't lose your phone for five damn years, will you? Or the next time you call I might be six foot under. " Marge reprimanded playfully and squished her plump hands around Jonathan one more time.

"Nonsense, you're too stubborn to die. Probably you'd end up crawling back out just to remind the grounds keeper to water your goddamned Gardenias."

She exploded with loud and vivacious laughter, throwing her head back. However, the mirth didn't last too long when Margery was folded into a bone crushing embrace. "I love you to pieces, you know that, right?" Jonathan whispered into her hair.

"I know, I know." She answered, voice thick with unshed tears.

"Aunt Marge, can I take something from here? The old copy of The Count of Monte Cristo? I just…want to remember home…"

The timid uncertainty in his voice seemed to break the old woman's heart. "Of course you can, you idiot. It was your favourite for ages, that book was yours since the seventies."

After a few more sweet nothings were exchanged between the parting family and Jonathan walked his honorary mother out the door. He and Tessa will be escorting her to the train station.

Tomas would have been glad to sneak into the car so he wouldn't be left alone in the house with Marcus, but there was no way to do that without raising suspicions, so here he was, sitting with his nose in the laptop, trying to memorise as much information about the upcoming targets as he could. Mouse had taught him, that the safest place for sensitive information is one's head. That way you can never lose it…and if you do, it will hardly matter anymore.

Still, those midsummer blue eyes were locked onto him discreetly - he could feel it like a physical touch on his body, shivering, soft and cool slide over his back and the side of his neck. It was infuriating. Ever since he was rescued Tomas expected to maybe forget about his indecent visions of Marcus, to pretend it was just the demon playing his heartstrings. Lilith WAS the demon of lust after all, so it all ought to have been nothing but her way to wretch his soul…There was a small problem, though. Those inappropriate desires didn't go anywhere.

He'd still walk out into the living room sometimes to find Marcus sprawled out on the couch without a care in the world, long, lean limbs stretched out and shirt creased up to show off the elegant arch of a hipbone disappearing into the shadows of his jeans. Tomas hated the fact his mouth would suddenly water at the sight of that small patch of pale, creamy skin. He hated the temptation to kiss his way into the enticing dips and hollows on the lean body, to run his fingers over the old scars covering far too much of Marcus' skin.

It was maddening. The questions spun in his head constantly, overshadowing the thoughts that are _supposed_ to be there – how to stop the infestation, how to avenge Mouse's death, how to get Bennett back, or if it's even possible.

Instead, if he would allow his self restraint to slip just for a moment, the other questions took their place.

 _Maybe it was never the demon? Maybe it was always me? I desired him, I defiled him…_

 _Maybe I never truly escaped…it's all an elaborate vision and she'll stride through the door any moment?_

 _What would it feel like to kiss him in real life, not some pointless vision? Would he taste the same, would it feel the same?_

Even now with his face turned towards the glowing screen he followed the languid, cat-like movements of his mentor. Marcus was checking his backpack and after dropping it onto the kitchen floor went about making tea. Or coffee, more likely.

Three days of doubts and hopes and fears were taking a toll on Tomas, he was getting angry with himself and the whole situation, but what was there to do? He couldn't just…Or maybe he could? Then it would all be clear.

As if God sent, Marcus' voice called out to him "D'you want some coffee?"

"I…yes, yes, please." Tomas said standing up to go to the kitchen counter. He still wasn't sure what he'll do, but the image was getting clearer.

"Milk but no sugar, yeah?" Marcus clarified absently, fiddling with the cups and sugar pot without feeling Tomas slinking closer quietly. When the blonde turned, he nearly jumped out of his skin – Tomas was inches away, staring at him as if he'll find the meaning of life written in the faint lines around Marcus' eyes.

"T-Tomas?"

"Marcus, I…can I…I need to make sure of something. I was thinking about the things I saw when she was in my head, you see. It…some of them were just…I need to know if it was real, Marcus. If this is real."

"Okay, okay…What do you need? How can I help?" The exorcist spoke quietly, face open and eyes gentle. He trusted Tomas and that only made it harder for the younger priest.

" I saw you, she made me see you, or maybe it was just me…But I need to know. Please…please don't be upset." Tomas knew he was making no sense, but just couldn't stop. It was now or never.

"I won't, I won't...but what…"

The kettle was whistling on the burner as Tomas' hands reached out to hold Marcus' face, keeping him still. The younger man watched as the pupils in those bright eyes contracted and then grew huge, before taking the leap.

 _If this is another dream, he'll let me. He'll just pull me close. Kiss me back._

 _If this is just another dream I'm not responsible for the things I'm feeling._

 _If I am dreaming…_

He stepped in and pressed his lips to Marcus', pulling the older man close. The lips of his mentor were a little chapped, a little dry, but pliant under his ministrations. There was no resistance, so he took the liberty given to him, licking and suckling on those hesitant lips, feeling his fill. Marcus was melting into the kiss, slowly, timidly, as if he wasn't sure what to do with it, and Tomas began to panic. ' _I really am dreaming, oh Lord give me strength…'_ the younger man thought desperately, so it took a moment for him to realize that Marcus has gone eerily still, as if he turned to stone. Then suddenly hands wrapped around Tomas' forearms and pushed him back, breaking their kiss.

"Tomas…? Tomas, stop, we...we can't…We're being influenced! " Marcus stumbled over words. The panic was evident on his face and it filled Tomas with sudden relief at the realization he's not dreaming after all. This Marcus was not in love with him.

"I'm not…Thank God I'm not…" The terror of what he had done took a few seconds longer to catch up. "I'm sorry Marcus, it was nothing...It won't happen again, I just needed to know…" he mumbled, head swimming.

That very moment something quietly broke in Marcus' expression.

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Tessa swung the door open and strode in before the tall figure trailing right behind with a phone pressed to his ear.

"Cody, for fuck's sake, we don't have the luxury to trust just anyone right now! And 'Mouse'? Really? What kind of a name is that?" the agent ranted, irritated that his plans might go to the wind. Not only the darn technician came out to be an illegal hacker, oh no. Apparently he knew all about the demons _before_ Jonathan ever did and kept his mouth shut. If that was not enough, now the asshole wants to send them some shifty backup and has the audacity to demand them to wait for it. Her. The sound of a shattering dish brought him back to reality and the man turned towards the kitchen to find a haunting sight.

Marcus stood there, frozen, pale as first snow, with his hands shaking lightly. Under his feet the shattered pieces of a mug lay in a puddle of coffee. In an instant the foreboding stillness was gone and the exorcist nearly ran to him.

"What are you talking about? You said something about someone named Mouse?" He looked almost feverish, eyes sharp and glistening like the edge of a blade. The focus was downright terrifying.

"It…er…there is this woman called Mouse, apparently, and she knows about the demons, so a colleague of mine sort of …well wants us to wait for her as a sort of backup." Jonathan stammered out, not sure what the violent reaction was about. In a second he remembered the man on the phone. "Cody, hold on for a minute." He said quickly and turned towards the agitated blonde.

"A woman called Mouse?" Marcus mumbled almost to himself, eyes running quickly from side to side in thought. "How does she look like?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know? Do you know someone by that name?"

"Do …? Where were you when I spoke to Tomas about her death? Didn't you hear?"

"When you spoke about…? Your comrade? The one who died? I left, it seemed appropriate…Wait, was that Mouse?" Jonathan's doubts grew tenfold but now they couldn't just let it slide. If someone was running around using a dead woman's name to wreck havoc, they needed to know. With perturbation he lifted the phone back up to his ear.

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Four people stood by an open door ignoring the cold wind blowing through it and waited in quiet trepidation. Marcus had a gun behind his belt, hidden by a baggy pullover. Jonathan didn't bother to hide his weaponry. The standard issue handgun hung heavy in the leather holster. Tessa was irritably biting her nails and Tomas positioned himself by the window – furthest away from Marcus he could get without losing the sight on the driveway.

In the fifteen agonizing minutes every horrific possibility ran through Marcus' head. It could be someone using her name. It could be her, just possessed, again. It might even be a whole horde of Vatican dogs. He had to physically force himself not to move, to keep still and watch the road. The exorcist's heart nearly stopped as a small green car drove up to the house and parked neatly.

She climbed out so simply, so nonchalantly, completely unaware of the impact of her very presence had on the two men waiting on the opposite sides of the room. Marcus heard Tomas curse quietly in Spanish and felt his own breath hitch. When Mouse walked up to the door she stood there a little surprised.

"Marcus? I thought you opted out of this game? Where's my boy?" she asked pleasantly enough, with her hands stuffed into the pockets of dark grey jeans. The man didn't answer. There was no air in his lungs. _'She's alive. Breathing. Speaking. Cold in the wind and just so…alive.'_ The thought ran over and over in his head, like a bad record, stuck on the same line for all eternity. Instead of Marcus, it was Tomas, who approached her first, with a glass of holy water. Without a word he reached the water out to her and the woman just laughed.

"Alright, alright, Spot. Don't bite my leg, okay? I guess I have taught you something after all…" She drunk the clear liquid but none of the men moved to let her in. "For Christ's sake, you can just shoot me if I start seizing, but let me in, I'm freezing out here."

Jonathan moved first, stepping to the side to let her pass, Tomas followed suit, though a little hesitantly. Now only Marcus was left in her way and he wasn't moving.

"Marcus, just let me in. I'm not possessed, and even if I was you have a bloody army, it's four to one..." she didn't get to finish her argument as Marcus suddenly pounced on her and squeezed so tight the woman could barely breathe in. "Marcus? What the...?"

"I thought you dead." he whispered into her thick mane of dark hair. "He had your medallion and I...I believed him..."

"I'm fine, I'm good."Mouse said, softer, kinder than before. The full realization that he remembers a gift so small, even after all these years...and watching just how her supposed death seemed to affect the man she once loved made her almost - almost - willing to feel it again. "You met Bennett, have you?" she asked pulling away.

"Yeah, yeah, I have." the exorcist affirmed puling himself back together. "Wasn't the most pleasant reunion, I should tell you. "

"I can imagine. Don't feel too bad, he tricked us both. Actually it was a close call and the news might have been true. One more reason not to trust the church. He still has his position in Vatican and that should be telling enough." She spoke animatedly and went straight to the couch, plopping down like it was her home. Some things seemed to be acquired traits for all exorcists.

"That's precisely why we're not looking for help in the church." Tomas spoke up, sitting himself in front of her on the coffee table. "How did you escape? Are you alone? No tail?"

"I'm not that stupid, Thomas. And I'll tell you all about my grand escape with a pint of beer sometime, but now there are more pressing matters. The invasion has begun. I visited a monastery couple of days back and they have two or three possessed every week."

"Every week?" Marcus perked up instantly "Who's dealing with them? How many exorcists are there? Or still in the field at all?"

"St. Agatha's has one exorcist and she's..."

"One?!" Marcus shock was clearly evident as he stared straight at the light brown eyes " Have they lost it completely? And since when nuns perform by themselves, not in groups?"

"Oh sit down, will you? She's not a nun."

"Then what is she?!"

"God knows. But one thing she is, is efficient. Just like Tomas here, Sandra can take two or three every week, maybe more if need be." Mouse explained patiently. They were all agitated. ' _No need to ignite the gunpowder. Especially with BOTH of the hotheads in one room_ ' she reminded herself to keep the tone down. At least everyone forgot about her possible possession.

"Three?" Marcus looked over to Tomas in slight shock mixed with something akin to admiration. "Okay, okay...have you had contact with anyone else? How many are there?"

"Most were called back to Rome, and reassigned meaningless jobs, at least they were the last I knew." Tomas answered in her stead "Those who refused to give up are rogues, just like us. Has that changed?"

"No but few were probably captured, I couldn't contact them even if I tried, so instead I came around to work with Vertigo."

"Vertigo? Is that what the idiot is calling himself these days?" Jonathan spoke up for the first time.

"I take it you didn't know about his side job?" she smiled widely at the obviously pissed man.

"Damn right. I would have taken his head off, that idiot, honestly. He'd face tribunal if he's caught."

"Then it's good he's clever enough not to get caught. I have a good bit of information, but not all of it is available today, some needs to be verified, so we are stuck here 'till tomorrow morning. What I can tell you now is that Bennett is missing from our radar, but there is another leader among them. Her name is..."

"Isabella Brier, I know." Tomas spoke up with weariness of someone too tired of hearing that particular name. "I met her. Personally. With Tessa's help we figured out the demon inside her is Lilith, the queen. She works closely with two men, one is tall and big, his name is Emmet and the other is a short, bald man, I think Daniel. I found on the net she is a fashion designer, could that be?"

"Well, you don't need me all that much after all. The big one is Emmet Brown, her bodyguard and the bald guy is Daniel Benton, her secretary. The woman really is a designer, she has a few high end brands, the most popular one is called - lo and behold - Pure Sin."

Tessa snorted at that and drew Mouse's attention to herself "Who are you again?"

"I'm Tessa Kawasagi, a...sort of pet? I was caught and held captive with Tomas here, so when they ditched, I came along. I'm a spirit walker, like Tomas and I have my own way of getting rid of demons, so I'll earn my keep, don't worry." The tiny girl reassured. This whole mess was getting too big for her, but there was nowhere to go back to, so forward was the only way.

"Good to know. Right, well, I had a horrible week and apparently have been dead for some time..." She smiled brightly at Marcus and the first time that day the exorcist grinned back. "So...Who's up for a beer? Or a cider maybe?"

"Mouse..." Tomas reprimanded in fond resignation. It was obvious he's heard that train of thought before.

"I don't think it's..." Jonathan came to back Tomas up, but to the agent's great surprise Marcus spoke up jovially.

"Oh why not, if we're waiting anyway...And one of your friends doesn't come back from the dead every day, ain't that right? What say you?" He turned towards Tessa and Jonathan with a shit eating grin.

"Well, I wouldn't say no to a cider..." Tessa said smiling a little shyly.

"What about you, agent?" Mouse turned her big brown eyes on him, hoping for better effect. Little did she knew she's barking up the wrong tree.

"You'll go anyway, won't you?" he asked rhetorically and didn't even wait for an answer. "There's a bar few miles back towards the main road. The Black Rose. Mostly truck drivers and bikers gather there, but it's the closest I can think about."

"Then it's settled, come on!" Marcus stood up and threw his hand over Tessa's shoulders to herd her along.

Jonathan watched them go, all giggling and whooping. One thing became terrifyingly clear in the agent's mind. Something was wrong with Marcus. Very wrong.

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See you next chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

Hello again my dear readers. I hope you haven't forgotten this story yet! I know it took me a good while to update, but life happens :) Anyway, another chapter for your amusement! Thank you so very much for reading, it means the world to me. Drop a few words in the comments if you feel like it!

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Tomas was hiding and he knew it.

The Pool table was an excellent distraction so, holding a rare second pint of beer he was trying to beat Mouse for the third time with little success. He barely paid any attention to the strikes, eyes darting towards Marcus by the bar.

This morning had been a mistake.

A horrible, unforgettable mistake and it filled his very bones with fear, making them brittle. He was afraid to move too fast, to talk too loudly as if his every move would create waves in the air and somehow dislodge Marcus even more.

They had sprung away from each other in the kitchen and Marcus simply said 'It's fine' and went about making his coffee while pointedly ignoring Tomas, who was shamed enough not to dare another try at apologising. The ignoring lasted throughout the day and even here he never spoke directly to Tomas. The young priest felt like he had broken something between them, a trust created over the long months together on the road. But could it really be so easily broken? Was it so weak to begin with?

Mouse had kept him busy with the stories of her grand escape, the funny adventures along the way. After the first short speech about his possession and a stiff, but clearly loving one armed hug she had let the subject slip. _You are not dirty, you are not ruined. Whatever you may have seen, know it was not your own depravity. You can rise above it, just give it time._ He wished he could believe her, but knew some of it was not true after all. ' _Some of it was my depravity._ ' Tomas thought glumly. He was grateful the woman didn't linger on more dangerous and dreadful subjects. Even thoroughly entertained, Tomas still found himself glimpsing towards the bar.

Marcus was unabashedly flirting with the bartender – a woman around forty, with too fluffy blonde hair and too bright, coral red lips. He was drinking himself under the table in the process.

Halfway through the evening Tessa gave up on trying to keep the older exorcist company (as he was already plentifully occupied) and came to drag him onto the dance floor.

"Oh come on, you're hopeless at it." She said looking pointedly at the velvety table surface "I've been watching you play, or lose, more likely. Maybe you're a little better at dancing?"Apparently she had found an old but functioning jukebox.

"I don't know, nobody else is dancing. Perhaps it's not allowed?" Tomas tried to twist himself out of the predicament. He knew he's a good dancer, but, unfortunately, by far not in the mood for it.

"Maybe they need a little encouragement? See that old couple in the corner with beer and peanuts? Five bucks says they'll join us!" The dark eyes were sparkling with laughter and the bright, if a little lopsided, grin was contagious. Tomas felt his reluctance melt away slowly.

"Well what are you waiting for? Take the girl dancing! That way I might even get some real challenge over here!" Mouse told him smirking and that settled it. Turning back to Tessa he saw she already knew she'd won.

"I hope you're right…If the bartender throws us out of here, you pay the bill." Tomas said smiling ruefully. So he let her have fun in poking the ancient device and then spinning him around on the dirty floor.

The young exorcist was just tipsy enough to be amiable to showing his fairly decent dance moves, but not tipsy enough to end up on the floor while doing so. His formerly fellow prisoner was a little clumsy dancer. Still, Tomas managed to lead her just fine, though it took a little more effort and he held her closer than necessary.

The messy black hair infused with faint smell of sweet oranges and vanilla tickled his nose while her small, lithe body wiggled and turned in his arms. They stumbled and laughed and stepped on each other's feet from time to time. She was happy and he could feel it in his own bones, seeping through every contact point. It made him happy. It made him feel alive.

One of older Elvis' songs, the slow one, played on the device and Tessa pulled him close, smiling. Tomas felt his body react to the intimate touch – her hands around his shoulders his palms on her hips. She was not curvy or busty, instead the body in his arms was lean, flexible and almost feather light.

' _Maybe this is it? Maybe my body just needs touch, intimacy, release? And I concentrate it on Marcus? Lord help me…'_

Second thought came unbidden.

 _'Change it. Change the focus to Tessa – she is pretty and fun and she likes you. Dance with her, touch her and then remember when you need it.'_

It was mortifying to even think about it, but Tomas had to acknowledge it was a good idea. At least he's not staring at the bar anymore.

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 _'Fuck them. The both of them.'_

Marcus thought sullenly while he leered at the bartender. Two men from different sides of the room were monitoring him discreetly.

The bartender was by far not his taste, but the flirting kept him busy and got him free drinks from time to time. He was a good flirt and he knew it, all tongue in cheek, smiling, always with a funny story on the tip of his tongue. Unfortunately his heart was not in it today. When Tessa gave up on teaching him some funny card tricks and left him by the bar alone with Sally, the bartender, Marcus nearly groaned out loud. Now he had nowhere to turn his attention _but_ to Sally. She was loud and a little obnoxious… _'Still beats watching Tomas spinning Tess' around and pulling her close again.'_ the man thought to himself.

He'd felt Tomas glimpse at him from time to time the entire evening, as if keeping tabs.

 _'Good, watch.'_ He'd thought _'You can be put off by me all you want, I'm a good game and I don't give a damn, see?'_

It was pathetic and childish and wrong, he knew it. Probably he'll repent for it later, but now the vodka shots and beer (along with something green he couldn't remember the name of) were singing in his veins and he didn't care.

Jonathan was tracking his movements far less subtly, more like a hawk, sharp eyed and infuriatingly sober. Same damn glass of whiskey stood before him the whole evening, only the men at the darts changed. The bastard was beating the pants off of fourth trucker already. Good aim. Figures.

 _'Fuck you too. I'm not a child, stop looming over me. I can get drunk if I want to. I can drag that tacky bartender to the backroom if I want to. Not that I would know what to do with her there…'_ piped in a voice at the back of his head and the red feisty anger faded a little.

That was true. Despite all his loud and charming flirting he had no clue. Not a single one, really. Well maybe a little. He knew how to get a man off if he needed to, he knew more or less what women enjoyed, too, and if he'd allow himself, Marcus was sure his body would figure out the rest on pure instinct. Still, fifty is a bit too late for awkward fumbling and what woman would want an overgrown virgin? _'Maybe that's what put Tomas off? Maybe I did something wrong?'_ The thought was terrifying but wholly probable.

 _'You pushed him away, that's what you did!'_ The voice in his head spoke irritatingly _'It has to be her influence. Keep your head, you're being manipulated, the both of you. It's your job to keep him safe even from yourself. Especially from yourself, so stop mopping about.'_

Marcus decided that particular voice was not drowned enough yet, so he took another shot of the green whatever. In about ten minutes that decision came back to bite him in the arse.

The gravel of the parking lot was unsteady under his feet as Marcus emptied the contents of his stomach by the trash bins. Even the air seemed to burn his lungs on the way in. _'I'm a sodden old man, 's what I am.'_ He managed to think while squeezing his eyes shut in effort to stop the ground from spinning and making his stomach contract painfully. He absently heard the metal door of the bar swing open and back shut.

"Oh for fuck's sake. Really?" The voice was familiar by now. Archer. Well, shit.

"Leave me be, will you!" Marcus barked not even looking up.

"To do what? End up unconscious when it's below freezing? Sure, why not?"

"I'll be fine." He tried again and punctuated it with another half empty heave.

"It's precisely your 'fine' that I'm worried about. Are you done?"

Another heave, this time nothing came out anymore.

"Think so." Marcus grumbled.

"Good, hold on a second, I'll get you a bottle of water and warn our folks."

The exorcist stood there vaguely wondering what should they be warned about? The demons? Marcus' dirty mind? The green liquid?

He didn't fully comprehend how much time passed but his hands were not freezing yet when he was hauled upright and had a bottle of water pressed into his palm.

"Drink. We're going home." Jonathan said holding his shoulder as Marcus drank.

"'s early. Don' wanna go home yet. 'm fine, see?"

"Like hell you are. I had to talk Tomas out of running here just to check on you. They can see something's wrong, you know. I figured you won't be up for a lot of company, so I told them to stay a little longer and have some fun if we're here already. And we'll take the long road home. It should sober you up somewhat."

"We're _walking_ home?!" Marcus demanded incredulous.

"Do you intend to drive in that condition?" There was a note of amusement in the agent's voice.

"You can drive just fine, you prick. And the stick's still up your arse." Marcus grumbled but they were already stumbling towards the poorly lit road. At least the moon was large and bright, so they won't walk straight into a ditch.

"I've had a couple glasses of whiskey…and it's nice to know you keep tabs on my ass."

Marcus nearly choked on his water.

A few minutes passed in silence and Marcus could already feel the fuzz of alcohol ebbing away. Throwing up always helped, as unsightly as it may be. The air was crisp, even a little nippy and the stars were bright, barely obscured even by the luminous full moon. He walked nearly straight already.

"Your boss will be angry with you, I imagine?" Jonathan asked grinning. He seemed in unusually good humour this evening. "You'll spend a long while on the porch tomorrow morning…"

"On the porch?" Marcus asked a little confused. When Jonathan mentioned his boss, the first thought flew uncontrollably to Bennett. It took a second to realize he meant God.

"It's where you pray, isn't it? Or you just awfully like the scenery, who am I to know?"

"Sometimes. What religion were you born into? Or were both your parents hard arsed atheists? Is it passed on through the generations?" the exorcist shot back half heartedly. He really will sit on the porch in the morning. Probably.

"Oh no, that's just me. My mom was Lutheran and dad was technically catholic, though I doubt he knew how a rosary looks like." The brunette clearly had a general distaste for religion and Marcus could feel the little mock towards praying.

"You really don't like praying do you?"

"Not usually. The very few times I've seen people pray – in any religion - it just looked like they're reciting the grocery list. You know, something memorised through repetition but hardly of any importance." Jonathan explained looking up at the stars. "I like to watch you pray, though." He added after a beat of silence.

"I'm all that pretty, am I?" Marcus barked out a bitter laugh. It was clearly self depreciating. The younger man just looked at him for a long moment as if deciding what to say and eventually left the half question unanswered.

"When you pray it looks like you're talking to someone. As if you're positive there's someone there, on the other end, listening to your words. That's why they have actual meaning." Marcus remained quiet. Somehow it felt like a compliment.

"Do you still hear him?" The quiet question caught the exorcist by surprise.

"Who, God?" he clarified, suddenly feeling strangely sober.

"Mhm."

"Sometimes, yeah." Marcus said, half lost in his own mind. He didn't hear Him all that often, but it's been a long time he felt the Almighty so strongly, like a chemical compound, a basic building material of his body - flowing through his veins, filling his lungs with every breath.

"On the porch?" The smile was clearly audible.

"Yeah, on the porch. Or in the kitchen while I'm making tea. Or in the loo…apparently being omnipotent makes one a bit intrusive…" Loud and uninhibited laughter filled the empty forest road, echoed off trees and caused a grin to stretch itself all over Marcus' face without the owner's consent. Another few minutes passed in silence, walking side by side.

"Marcus, what does it…He, sound like?" The question was spoken so hesitantly, almost timidly. The answer didn't come all that easily to Marcus - it was hard to describe.

"It's…messy, sounds like everything on the planet happening at the same time, like a huge racket, but you can still hear His voice filter through and it's just so… "

"Loud." Jonathan finished for him, startling the exorcist into a momentary silence. The tone suggested he knew instead of guessing.

"…Yeah." The blonde finished quietly and stared at the stark lines of Jonathan's profile illuminated by the moon. There was a minute of silence before Jonathan spoke again, without looking at him.

"I think I heard Him once. Not…not like you…I actually had to die to do it."

Marcus heart leapt to his throat, but the man kept walking through sheer power of will. He knew he could ask, as intrusive as it could be, but had the feeling Jonathan will tell him on his own.

"About four years ago there was this case - a religious fanatic had murdered people in Iraq. It was an old case, and I had very little hope to find the culprit, but the psycho actually brought his hobby home with him - started to kill on American soil. Same MO. He used various ways described in scripture, like stoning, hanging, even burned a couple of women alive like the witches of old. Wrote lines from scripture to identify the sins they were being punished for."

Marcus' expression grew darker with every word, but he kept quiet. To use God's name, his word to torture and kill people was horrible, but unfortunately not unheard of. It still made him sick to think about it. Jonathan continued in almost monotone:

"When we finally were close to catching him, my team drew one conclusion from the gathered facts and I drew another. On the day before we were supposed to go in on him I struck out on my own. After seeing what he's done I had to catch him, and I did, or more like he caught me. That night I found out all the crucifixes I've ever seen were inaccurate. Apparently, in the old days, when they crucified people, they did it through the wrists, not the palms."

Cold rushed through Marcus in a wave, leaving him covered in gooseflesh and almost shivering on the spot. _The scars._ The small identical patches of scarred skin on his wrists Marcus wanted to ask about on the first day they met. Now he thanked the Lord he didn't ask back then. The sound of Jonathan heaving a large breath brought him back to present moment.

"You don't have to tell me, I'm not a priest anymore and this ain't some sort of confession…"

"I know." The brunette said, turning towards him with a small, brittle smile. "I started this myself, remember? I'll finish it. Right. Thankfully he didn't find me worthy of the spear, a hunter knife was enough for a sinner like me, so I didn't die immediately. It took time and my team managed to get to me before I was long cold. But I did end up dead for five whole minutes in the ambulance. It's complicated to describe what I saw when I was dead, but I remember it clearly, the voice so loud it drowns out all the rest. "

"You… remember what He told you?" the exorcist asked gently.

Jonathan paused for a while and Marcus assumed he was trying to remember, but the thoughts rushing through the agent's head had little to do with memory issues.

' _Should I tell you the truth? The whole truth? Will you accept it and let me do my job? Or will you take it upon yourself to be the martyr and try to keep me from my fate? **You're job is not done** , the voice told me back then. **Our Lion is waiting for you, protect him until the day you come back home.** Home clearly meant there, wherever I was at the time. When I woke up I knew I'm only back to live until the moment I will have to protect someone with my life._ _But you hardly want to hear that, do you, gorgeous? Perhaps with a little alteration…_ '

"I don't remember all that much, just that He told me my job is not done, I have something left to do here. For all these years I tried to downplay it,write it down to deathbed visions. I mean who wants to be on a mission from God? Were you awfully happy when you found out the man upstairs wants you to exorcise demons?" Jonathan tried to make the conversation lighter but it was clearly a misstep. Marcus' posture stiffened and he turned his eyes away.

"I was actually, yeah. I was just a lad back then, twelve years old. Orphan. The church bought me for pennies and no one gave a damn about me, I was just useless waste of good air. But when they threw me into a room with a demon...He showed me I had a purpose, I was needed after all. It was all I could ask for."

Jonathan's throat suddenly contracted painfully, as if something squeezed a hand over it. He couldn't breathe. That line of thought was not new to him and the agent remembered all too well where it can lead. When people weaponize themselves they start seeing themselves as objects instead of human beings, which results in them foregoing human needs and accepting inhumane behavior towards them as normal. He didn't want to think about Marcus in that position, yet here he was.

"You deserve more than that." He said in a tone that brooked no argument. They were mere few meters from home. Before Marcus could run away and hide in a corner, Jonathan grabbed his wrist and forced the man to look at him. "You may be God's best weapon, but you are more than that. You are human. You deserve to be human."

Something akin to fear, followed by pain skittered over Marcus' eyes, before he tired to turn away. "I'm sure I do." There was no conviction in the words and both men knew it. The slim wrist tried to pry itself out of Jonathan's grip, but he held on stubbornly. Change of tactics was due.

"Marcus, I want to ask a favour of you."

"So long as it doesn't take hand to eye coordination..." Humour. Marcus was getting defensive. The tawny blonde turned towards him, but refused to make eye contact.

"No coordination necessary." He assured "Do you remember the prayer you said when the owl was watching us? Could you teach it to me?"

"Saint Michael's prayer?" The man asked startled a little. The porch lights were on automatically - it seems they were in range already- and the icy blue of Marcus' eyes was spellbinding. At least he's looking at me again, Jonathan thought with relief.

"I don't know how it's called, but I'll remember if I hear it again."

"I thought you didn't pray?"

"I suppose it's time to start. I think I stopped denying the fact, that your man upstairs expected me to do this job. I guess I would feel somewhat safer knowing how to speak to Him." It was true, as antsy as it made him. Jonathan wanted to learn to speak to God, at least it would make dying less awkward.

"If you're sure..." Marcus sounded doubtful.

"I am, but first let's get coffee. We're both freezing."

With two mugs of coffee half empty and warm blankets around their shoulders two men sat on the porch and listened to the night.

"Do you want the short or the long version?" Marcus asked breaking the silence.

"How long is the long version?"

"About two pages." there was a hint of laughter in Marcus' voice and it made Jonathan release a pent up breath. They're on less rocky ground, at least for now.

"The short one, definitely." A small huff of laughter.

"Alright, then. Listen and repeat after me. Saint Michael Archangel, defend us in battle..."

He memorized the words as best he could. When 'amen' was spoken it left them both looking at each other through the small space left between their shoulders.

"Thank you." Jonathan said gently, hoping the sentiment will reach Marcus. The blonde just shook his head in gesture that it's no problem. Now came the tricky part.

"Would it be very forward of me to ask for another favour, as I'm already in your debt?"

"Depends...Just don't ask me to put in a word for you...I highly doubt He's listening at the moment." Marcus was smiling a little crookedly, a sweet and ridiculously attractive expression. It took all his willpower for Jonathan not to kiss him that very moment.

"No...I...just wanted to ask you to allow yourself to be human. Just for tonight. Let us both be human." Marcus stared at him with such bright vulnerability shining in the blue depths it spurred Jonathan on without thinking "You have a tape player in that old bag of yours. Take it out, let it play. Have coffee with me. Dance with me under the moon. Just for tonight." he reached out on pure instinct, cupping Marcus' cheek in his palm, stroking it gently. Surprisingly the man didn't pull away. Instead he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jonathan's gently, almost chastely.

"Just for tonight." Marcus whispered against his lips and in that moment Jonathan was happier than he's been in the last ten years at least.

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Tessa was having the time of her life. She just left Tomas to catch his breath and decided to take a trip to the bathroom.

They have been dancing and playing darts and laughing for what seemed forever. She had missed this feeling - the excited flutter of a crush in her belly. And the fact was she had a major crush on Tomas. Father Tomas. He was off limits and Tessa knew she should drop it, but the man himself seemed to be perfectly happy with her attentions. Maybe he's a little more progressive? Anyway, dancing isn't exactly adultery. And a little smooching wouldn't kill ether of them, she was sure.

The bathroom was pretty filthy, but what can you expect in a roadside bar? It was strangely eerie though. Quiet. One faucet was leaking.

Drop. Drop. Drop.

It reminded her instantly of the leaky pipes back in her cell.

' _NO. That is a very bad train of thought. I am not going there._ ' the tiny girl told herself. ' _It's a leaky faucet. That's all it is. So do your deed and get out of here._ '

The question was why could she even hear it? The music back in the bar should drown out all sounds but it didn't. The bathroom was deadly quiet. She couldn't decide whether she was happy there was no one there, or would it be better to have company when her eyes fell on a pair of sneakers. Pink. The trendy kind, a teenager would wear those, but no teenager could possibly be in a half empty bar at midnight. The feet in the stall didn't move, which was weird but Tessa adamantly tried to ignore it. _'Maybe she has a bowel problem, jeez, woman, get on with it!'_

The last stall in the corner was empty and Tessa gratefully closed the door, feeling a little safer in the small isolated space. Not that it would actually protect her, she knew. When she finally settled down on the seat a sound filtered through the flimsy stall walls. A sort of gurgling sound, like someone is chocking on their own blood. It only grew louder and all hair on her body stood at attention instantly.

This was bad. Very bad. _'I have no vraja, I have no way of getting out unnoticed..._ ' Then she stopped herself when the gurgling was accompanied by another sound - desperate trashing, bumping and the rattling of the stall door. Her brain instantly put the visual picture of legs spasming in those pink sneakers, hitting against the door. ' _Oh shit. Screw demons, that girl was probably using in the stall. Oh fuck, just don't OD on me!_ ' Pulling her pants back up Tessa sprinted out of her stall and instinctively tried to wrench the other door open. It did open without any resistance and inside indeed was a girl. A teenage girl around fifteen with dark blue highlights in her platinum blonde hair.

The white hair matched perfectly with equally white eyes, rolled back in the girl's head.

She didn't move and Tessa was happy to find her out of her body. Quietly she tired to take a step away from the currently immobile body, but when her shoe hit the tiles with a little squeak a pale hand stretched out and grabbed her wrist.

"She is expecting you." The demon growled and pulled her under into the spirit world.

Ten minutes later Tessa's body walked back out into the bar with a seductive smile on her face.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Want another go at the darts? The loser does shots!" She smiled brightly, wrapping her arm around Tomas' shoulders.

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That's it for this time, see you next chapter!

Ten minutes later


	11. Chapter 11

Another chapter after a long pause. I guess this will become our new schedule, since I have only scraps of time to write. Still, this one is a bit longer and it has a little bit of smut in it. A semi open sexual scene. So be warned.

Right, have fun!

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Marcus' tape was still playing song after song in the background, even when they long stopped to sway to the rhythm and sat on the couch with Marcus astride Jonathan's hips. Gentle hands mapped his back, skittered over his shoulder blades and into his hair. It felt nice, the soft lips on his, the soothing press of their bodies together – not too tight, not demanding, just there. He had rarely kissed someone so slowly, decadently, just enjoying the slide of lips and tongues without feverish rush of blind need or alcohol induced delirium.

It was his favourite part, the beginning. The pleasure of lips and wandering hands before the demands came. And they always came, in one form or another. Marcus knew Jonathan will not be harsh with him, he won't pull his hair and shove his head where he wanted it…but the needs to be fulfilled won't go anywhere. ' _Come on, baby, put those gorgeous lips to good use…' 'Do it like you mean it…_ ' the sentences rang out in his head in raspy voices he long told himself to forget.

So he enjoyed, while he could, the light pressure of palms on his hips and the marvellous things those hot lips were doing to his ear, then his neck and back to suckle on his earlobe. Pleasure shivered over his skin in a wave leaving gooseflesh in its wake and making him stifle a small sound. A force of habit, to make sure not to attract attention.

Long minutes passed in slow, relaxed haze, but Jonathan made no move to push him down and didn't do much more than pop a few top buttons on his denim shirt to get access to his collarbones and chest. Even slightly dizzy with pleasure Marcus started to wonder if he was doing something wrong. Again. They were both hard, so it wasn't a complete failure, but he couldn't understand why…?

"Jonathan?" He asked carefully looking down at the other man "Is…is everything alright?"

"Hmm?I think so…is it?" The usually grey eyes looked dark and languid in the faint light of a small table lamp. "Are you comfortable with this?"

"Me?" it was something he never expected to be asked. "'m fine, but…"

"Fine was alarming enough." Jonathan interrupted pulling back to look at him, palms still splayed on his thighs. "Did I do something?"

"No, no…just I was wondering if – Are we taking this somewhere?" Marcus asked hesitantly, feeling his face flame. Thank goodness the faint light will make it less noticeable. He knew even his ears were on fire.

"Taking this…somewhere?" Jonathan seemed to consider the answer for a moment "Maybe, if we both feel like it, but for now I guess I just took my time to learn you a little. You like a quicker pace?"

"It's not that…I…I'm not sure. Not really, I guess, I like the kissing part." It felt distinctly embarrassing and strange to be asked such things. Usually the other man would just set the pace as he wanted it, so Marcus was slightly at a loss as to what he liked exactly.

Now the brunette was looking at him with a strangely piercing look, studying him. "You guess…Have you been asked before?"

"Not really…Do people actually ask these things?" The discussion was getting more and more distressing for the former priest, he already regretted asking in the first place. Now Jonathan will think he's some kind of bashful virgin…even if the virgin part was technically true.

"Jesus, Marcus…" Jonathan muttered in disbelief and looked up at him, staring straight into the exorcist's eyes "Yes they do. Or at least they should and I think I made a colossal mistake of not doing that in the very beginning. I thought you might feel uncomfortable with direct questions, so I decided to take the time to learn by reaction. I assumed you have done this before. Have you?" he asked gently, stroking his hands slowly up and down Marcus' thighs.

It was a tricky question. The kissing – yes, the touching – yes, but the act itself…he really didn't want to explain all that, so the answer came out more than a little evasive "Yeah, yeah, there have been a few…uh… incidents."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Jonathan's hands froze on his hips and fell away instantly, as the man looked up at him in sheer terror "Incidents?"

Only then Marcus realized his mistake. Using a word 'incident' with someone, who is somewhat law enforcement, might have been a misfire. "Nothing criminal." He corrected rapidly "Just, you know, inconsequential dabbles in bars and alleys and what not…That sort of thing, mostly."

"Fuck…don't frighten me like that." Tension seemed to drain out of the strong shoulders and the brunette slumped a little forward, bumping his forehead into Marcus' collarbone, placing a small chaste kiss there. "Let's try again?"

"Sure." The exorcist answered too quickly, relieved that his little confession didn't seem to repulse Jonathan entirely. He leaned in and kissed the man below, feeling his own muscles unwind a little when the lips parted for him willingly. But the relief didn't last long – Jonathan placed both palms on his face and pulled them apart gently.

"Hold on a little, angel, as good as that feels. We need to make a few things clear, okay?"

"Okay. But that's blasphemy, just so you know." Marcus answered, pulling out his snarky grin. Humour was his coping mechanism when it came to discomfort and this was beyond uncomfortable.

"What? Me calling you angel? I thought it's fairly precise description." Jonathan indulged him and allowed the topic to slide for a little while.

"Do I look white, fluffy and glowing to you?" he asked smirking.

"To my limited knowledge, angels are supposed to be these magnificent, powerful creatures - warriors of God. And you are the most beautiful, intricate…terrifying human being I have ever seen. I thought it's quite fitting."

The blush that was still yet to recede from his face, extended down his chest and up to, probably, the roots of his hair. "You're horrible at compliments." He mumbled trying not o look at those gentle eyes, because the risk to get lost was too high.

"Probably, but at least I'm honest." Jonathan smiled broadly and kissed the corner of his mouth to get some attention. "Now…do you want to keep going? Just kissing and touching…"

Marcus nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. It did feel good to be close to someone not in a filthy bathroom stall. To kiss lips, that tasted of coffee and barely a trace of good whiskey, instead of cheap booze.

"Okay, me too. It felt good to touch someone after so long." Jonathan confessed quietly and Marcus' head snapped up instantly. He had never considered Jonathan's side of things, just assuming he wouldn't have problems finding someone to warm his bed. "It's been years, Marcus. I sort of got lost in my work and…forgot there was more to life. Forgot I was supposed to have a life. And now here you are – this gorgeous man sitting in my lap – and I frankly don't know how to handle you. A bit out of practice, you know…"

Marcus had to stop himself from laughing out loud, but a little huff did escape his lips. It somehow made the sizzling tension evaporate and he leaned forward into Jonathan's chest, lying down on it with his face in the crock of the other man's neck.

"I didn't notice." He whispered. Quiet laughter, that shook them both felt like a small victory.

"Well, how about we take this slow for my benefit, hmm? Let's not set any kind of goal, just…just feel. Be human. Enjoy what makes us feel good. Will you tell me?" Marcus listened, feeling the burning knot of anxiety deep in his body, just below the ribcage, unwind slowly. He scraped his fingers up and down the back of Jonathan's neck and down his spine, blunt nails dragging over hot skin under the open collar of his sweater. The man groaned in pleasure.

"Does this count?" Marcus tried for a bit of cheek and felt the man below strain a little in answer.

"That very much counts." Jonathan whispered low and gravely, nuzzling his neck. "A bit too much. Don't get carried away, gorgeous, or I might lose it."

"You like the nails?" He asked carefully, feeling a little bolder and curious what got that reaction.

"It's just the place is kind of sensitive. Not the…" he stumbled a little, licking his lower lip and biting down on it. Marcus watched fascinated, suddenly aware of his own power. "Shit…not the sexiest erogenous zone for sure…but still feels amazing."

Jonathan's head fell back effectively stopping Marcus' hand in its tracks. The usually grey eyes seemed almost black, pupils huge and warring with the little rim of silver and gold. He slowly, carefully unbuttoned the rest of Marcus' shirt and let it fall loose at his sides, slide a little off his shoulders. The exorcist instantly felt the reflex to pull it back closed - he was abhorrently thin and had quite a few scars there – but Jonathan's hands slid over his skin without hesitation, as if he didn't care. They didn't stay anywhere for long, didn't poke his painful memories, just explored and Marcus slowly relaxed under the unpretentious, gentle slide of calloused palms over his skin.

"I want to spoil you so very much, you know?" The brunette whispered gently, just millimetres away from his lips, brushing them with his words "To give you every pleasure imaginable, engage your every nerve. You're so…sensory, angel…you touch everything and like the different textures under your fingers. You like warmth and sweetness and the prickly feeling of wool."

The blue eyes grew large in shock. Marcus suddenly felt horribly naked, with or without clothes on. He was observed and seen through - dissected in a way. It felt both threatening and releasing. Before he managed to reel himself back in and scramble for an answer something was at his lips. A little piece of milk chocolate. Jonathan must have sneaked it off the plate by the side table.

"Open your mouth?" The man asked and he did, obediently and a little spellbound. A finger slipped past his lips pushing the little treat in. Sweetness and a small tang of slat – human skin- exploded on his tongue. The melting sweet caused him to suckle instinctively and the feeling of a rough pad on his tongue somehow made it both unbelievably dirty and equally tempting. When Jonathan tried to pull his hand back Marcus caught the wrist before even thinking about it and turned beet red as a consequence.

With gleaming eyes Jonathan watched him as he slowly pushed his finger in a little deeper, pressing down on Marcus' tongue and drawing back a little. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Marcus' brain was short circuiting and he knew it. It was too much input all at once – the tastes warring on his tongue, Jonathan's half lidded gaze on him, their hips slowly rocking together in the same rhythm as the finger in his mouth. He moaned around the digit just to have it removed that very moment. Instead Jonathan pulled him down into a deep and messy kiss, licking into Marcus' mouth as if to catch the last taste of chocolate there.

He had no time to feel guilty, or dirty, or undeserving. Somewhere in the backdrop of his thoughts a small voice whispered that he shouldn't be selfish, shouldn't want to be coddled like this, doesn't deserve to be treated as nothing more than a means to an end…But suddenly he was lifted up and the voice evaporated instantly. He automatically wrapped his arms and legs around Jonathan and stared.

"The hell are you doing?" Marcus almost squealed, though he won't confess to that under torture.

"We're going upstairs, or maybe you want to be found making out like a teenager?" the man asked, but proceeded to climb the short staircase to the attic without waiting for an answer.

"Won't we hear the car engines?"

"Not with the car keys in my pocket..." Jonathan smiled wickedly.

"Oh, you're a right bastard!" the exorcist laughed out loud "She'll murder you when she'll get back."

"Then let's not waste time, as apparently I have little left." The brunette groaned and set Marcus down at the top of the stairs. "Shit, I'm getting old, not very sexy, but we'll have to walk from here."

"Old man." Marcus teased and stole a small kiss as they stumbled through the door. Only when the room came into view did the exorcist stop for a second and the memories of what happened there flooded in. Jonathan must have felt the hitch, because he stopped and looked at Marcus.

"Jesus, I didn't think this through. You want to go back down?"

Marcus contemplated it for a moment and realized that he really didn't. The space looked different with Jonathan's possessions laid out neatly across it. He had put one chair atop another to make a shelf of sorts, it was filled with neatly folded clothing. The mattress now had a blanket and a pillow on it, all made in neat military angles. Marcus was instinctively tempted to mess it up, so he dragged Jonathan forward into the space and kissed him long and hard. They tumbled down in a heap with the marine's broad shoulders stretched over Marcus in a very satisfying way.

"This okay?" the brunette asked, his voice gravely with lust. For a second Marcus could only pant.

"Mhm…I…I like to feel your weight." He replied a little hesitantly, but even that was far more honest than he thought he was capable of being without dying of shame.

"Thank you, angel. I like it too. Wasn't that hard, was it?" Jonathan smiled at him and allowed a little more of his weight to settle on Marcus, pressing him snugly into the mattress "I want you to tell me if something feels good or if it doesn't. Stop me if you feel uncomfortable, okay?"

Marcus nodded wordlessly and let his head fall back onto the pillow. The buzz of alcohol was dim and distant, replaced by a strumming beat of desire. _Yes. Yes. Yes._

This evening has ended far differently than he'd expected. Safe, sheltered under those broad shoulders, warm and surprisingly content Marcus doubted he'd mind whatever happened.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was the third time Jonathan has brought the beautiful man underneath to the very edge of release, felt him tether the fine line between strain and bliss. His lips felt swollen and his jaw was a little tight, but it didn't matter. The feel of Marcus' cock in his mouth was exquisite, hot and heavy, not very thick but long. It would jump excitedly every time Jonathan caressed the crown with his tongue. Even this part of Marcus responded magnificently to different textures – the rough and smooth sides of his tongue, a careful scrap of teeth. Every small thing got a different reaction. It was sheer pleasure to work him up, cool him down and start all over again.

The first time 'round there was barely any movement, barely any sound. Marcus laid there biting his lips and trying to control his breathing, as if making any noise or touching Jonathan too much might drag some sort of punishment upon his head. It was painful to watch someone try so hard not to show they enjoy it, so Jonathan decided it wouldn't do. Not until the gorgeous, brave, magnificent man in his arms will allow himself to feel, to take what he needs, to ask for it.

Second attempt earned him the quiet, yet addictive gasps and needy little whimpers. They were getting a little louder - as if Marcus finally figured he won't be scolded or mocked for them. Long fingers gripped his shoulders desperately and lean thighs quivered with strain, but Marcus still tried to control it, to take what he's given but not demand for what he needed. Not quite there yet, Jonathan decided.

Now they were steadily climbing towards orgasm for the third time and despite the little pain in his jaw every second was worth it. Finally, _finally_ the restraints were melting away, revealing the beautiful, sensual man underneath the armour. The lean body writhed and arched in his arms, hips jerked up into his mouth seeking more friction, more wet heat. _'That's it, gorgeous, let me see you, the real you. You're safe. I've got you. Ask for what you need and I'll give it to you._ ' Jonathan thought dazedly. His own breath was barely controllable along with the hard member straining in his jeans. That was when Jonathan made the worst and best decision of his life – he looked up and found a vision in throes of ecstasy. The blush was blooming high and bright on Marcus' cheeks and extending all the way down the pale chest, colouring it almost fuscia-pink. He desperately tried to turn his face into the pillow to muffle the beautiful moans flowing almost uncontrollably now. Eyes squeezed shut and jaw slack in pleasure. Marcus' hands were shaking as he threaded them into Jonathan's hair and tugged desperately. A spike of pleasure travelled down the brunette's spine and straight to his sack.

 _'_ _Fuck_ _!_ _Oh fuck…no no no. Don't cream your pants like a friggin teenager.'_

But Marcus' hands tightened in his hair, the lean hips bucked off the mattress wildly and Jonathan heard his name gasped out desperately.

"Jon-! Jonathan, please…Oh God, please don't stop!"

' _I won't angel. I won't. There you are, let go…Cum in my mouth, let me taste you…_ '

Thighs trembling and hips jerking frantically Marcus tried to pull his head off, to keep himself from shooting in his mouth but Jonathan was having none of that. He held on as Marcus arched off the mattress, tight as a bowstring, and salty liquid filled his mouth. There was no sound, but the look of sheer ecstasy on the other man's face was enough to push Jonathan over. His vision whited out for a second and he moaned low and ragged, only muffled by the pulsating flesh in his mouth. When the world came back into focus, Jonathan realized what happened and panic flooded his face red.

"Oh Jesus...Shit, I'm...I'm sorry. I..." Marcus ignored his babbling entirely and pulled him up,by the hair, crashing their mouths together. Soon it turned slow and indulgent, both of them sated and a little cotton-headed. Jonathan got up to clean up and when he came back Marcus was already snuggled into the covers. As he slid beneath the blanket warm arms wrapped around him instantly and a dozing priest cuddled up to him. With a mumbled 'G'night' Marcus was out like a candle. Jonathan followed suit soon after.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The door handle turned easily in Tomas' hand. Unlocked, as expected. Mouse went ahead of them and was nowhere to be seen, so she must be in the bathroom. He stumbled in with the heat of Tessa's hands at his sides and his back. It was comforting, playful intimacy. The kind he hadn't experienced since his teenage years and it was refreshing like a gulp of cold water after a long day of hard labour. There was too much alcohol and too little sense in his brain, so at the moment he couldn't find it in himself to feel guilty.

She sneaked under his arm and ended up between Tomas' arms smiling brightly. The dark eyes twinkled happily and promised him long and happy minutes of love and acceptance, intimacy and peace afterward.

It's been so long – over a year now since he felt another body close to his own, luxuriated in the scent of warm skin and soft hair. Too long for him to resist easily, especially now. The demon's words rang in his head _"Don't you think everyone deserves that?"_ She had said making him observe the lovebirds by the river. He had said yes then, he would say yes now.

"Will you come to my room? Is that okay?" Tessa asked unusually timidly - the teasing and boldness gone for a moment. Tomas looked at her for a second, but not to make a decision, for it was already made. No, he gazed at her just to see, to appreciate the delicate features, the beautiful slant of those dark eyes, small, but full lips. She was lovely and open and willing. For him.

"I will." Tomas eventually said and without waiting kissed her soundly. In a matter of seconds they were stumbling backwards towards the door of the master bedroom, a few chairs and a carpet unable to hinder their journey, despite great effort.

Like teenagers they giggled and got stuck in the clothing as they tried to pry it away, only to compensate for the fumbling with open-mouthed kissed laden with laughter. Tomas gently pushed the tiny woman back and she easily fell on the bed, arms above her head as he crawled over her. Wrapping his palms around her wrists the young priest kept her there, mock-pinned to the bed as he pressed his nose into her neck and inhaled. Sweet orange, faded scent of vanilla and warm, sweet scent of human skin. Latching his lips upon it he felt her squirm underneath, press herself up into his body. Soon Tomas found his hands could be put to better use so he set Tessa free and dragged his palms down slowly, feeling almost boyish body underneath. There were no curves, but he didn't need any. Two images of lean bodies merged in his mind for a moment as the memory of Marcus' lean waist and arching hipbones flashed through his mind. That very moment Tessa turned them over with surprising strength and straddled his hips. She leaned down to lick his ear and whispered into it as if telling a secret:

"You're thinking of him." She cooed quietly "I'm here with you and you are thinking of his body right now."

Tomas froze underneath, confusion and shame filling his veins. How could she possibly know of that small slip-up? Gathering the courage he looked up into her eyes and felt his heart stop – they were black. Not the playful, warm midnight black, but a cold, flat depths of an abyss. Demon's eyes were staring down at him and he couldn't move.

"No…no, oh Lord, please…" the young exorcist whispered desperately, hoping against hope that this was just an illusion, a trick of the light, anything but what it was.

"What good could he do for you? Oh, you two tragic bastards…" the demon spoke gently, with just a note of mocking in her tone "How juicy that guilt of yours is. Both foolishly in love with the other but so bound by fear and shame you cannot do a damn thing about it…Poor sweet fools, so ripe for the taking…" Tessa's hands travelled up to his head and pressed into his temples. Tomas knew exactly what was coming next, so he managed to hold the vision off for long enough to scream 'Mouse' at the top of his lungs. Then the scenery started to blur. As his eyes rolled back Tomas managed to muster enough self discipline to push the vision towards where he wanted it. He will get inside her head and save her.

 _The room was strange. It had barely few furniture and there were strange mats on the floor, but no carpet. Bleary light streamed through a sort of door or a window, the panes were covered in thin paper. In the middle of the room stood a coffin – black and imposing in the soft shades of the entire room. There was no mistake as to who was the tiny figure kneeling next to it on the floor._

 _As Tomas slowly stepped closer the overwhelming scent of flowers seeped into the air and made him nauseous. It was the scent of cemeteries, scent of death – lilies, callas and freesias, so thick it felt unnatural. In the flower decked box laid a man, abut fifty to sixty, thin and wiry and…alive. The resemblance was uncanny. Eyes open he stared daggers at his daughter._

 _"You are a little thief, my daughter. I thought I will raise you good, I will raise you worthy, but I have failed." He spoke in a cold, harsh voice. "I lost my wife, lost my son and all I had left in compensation was you. You killed them both and now betrayed me."_

 _"Father, please…" Tessa's voice sounded so small, so quiet, laced with tears streaming down her face. "All I ever wanted was to make you proud…I didn't mean to steal it…it was yours and I wanted to be like you…"_

 _"It's not a woman's job to do what you do and you knew it, child. It was never meant for you, but how could you have kept your hands to yourself? You were so curious. You were always so curious and I had to pay for you foolishness in life as well as death!"_

 _"I…"_

 _"I wrote you clearly to burn my scrolls, burn my tools and never to lay a hand on them, have I not? And yet you defied even my last will! Have you no respect for your own father?!"_

 _"I wanted to make it your legacy father, to do good as you have done…"_

 _"And have you?" a cold laughter filled the room and Tomas couldn't watch it any longer. He kneeled beside the small trembling figure and shook her by the shoulders to get some attention. It barely registered, but still he had to try._

 _"Tess, listen to me. It's me, Tomas, this is not real, all of this is not real. There is a demon in your head and it is playing your shame and guilt against you. You are stronger than this, you are better than this, please listen to me!"_

 _She reached out towards the black lacquered surface and took one red flower blooming among the white ones, it was beautiful, but Tomas could not recognize it._

 _"It was my mother's favourite."Tessa spoke quietly, with no direct recipient. Her eyes stared past the demon and directly into a wall as dark stains started to appear on the surface and spread, dripping downward. It took Tomas a moment to realise it was blood. "My father told me. I never knew her, she died giving birth to me and my twin brother. He only lived two days…and I lived longer."_

 _"Too long. I wanted it to be him, you know. I always wanted to have a son, and all I had instead was you." The demon taunted from his bedding of white flowers._

 _"Tessa, Tessa, listen to me. It's not your fault, you were just a baby, you had no choice over your mother's death. No child would choose to lose their mother. Do you think your father, your real father, would have been happier to lose both his children? I believe he was happy that you survived and he loved you very much. Now look at it, it's not your father!"Tomas rattled desperately hoping she will hear him. Tear streaked eyes turned toward him and he could see the light starting to return to them._

 _"Yes, yes, listen to me, not the demon. You are smarter than this, it…" the exorcist had no chance to finish as the blood flowing out of the walls reached his body and slowly slid up his legs and over his chest to cover his throat. It felt like hands squeezing the life out of him. Tomas scratched and clawed at his neck, trying to pry it off. With wild fear his eyes darted around the room and got stuck on a figure by the open window. A woman stood there, turned to the side, with long black hair obscuring her face. The white hospital robe hung on her frame and she clutched her stomach. Blood was pouring down her legs and adding to the puddle, turning the entire floor of the room into a rippling crimson mirror._

 _"Come, my child, it's time to go. We are waiting for you. The only honourable way to atone for your offences is death." The woman spoke as she stepped closer and handed a small sheathed dagger to her daughter. Tessa's hands reached for it and wavered a moment._

 _"Your brother was supposed to be the exorcist and you were supposed to be dead from the beginning. Set things right, daughter." The demon cooed._

 _"No…don't…" Tomas chocked out "You are…loved…you…are needed…"_

 _The man's arm reached out of the casket and gripped his neck, squeezing tighter as he spoke directly to Tomas for the first time. It was the words he had heard before:_

 _"Ipse venit…"_

Back in the small bedroom in the Bell house Mouse nearly threw the door off its hinges as she stormed through. Inside she found a haunting sight – Tomas shirtless pinned under a demon with her hands on his head, both their eyes white as bleached linen. She spoke the words automatically, trying to start the rite, but a force lifted her up and threw her over the bed and into the wall nearby. On the floor, chocking and trying to catch her breath she heard footsteps thundering down the stairs. All went still until the windows started to shake and the floorboards began to moan and creak under pressure. He was losing and she could see it. Scrambling up the woman pushed straight past two men now at the door and went for her bag in the hallway.

Marcus stood in complete shock staring at the pair of his comrades on the bed. Tessa was holding Tomas down, trying to possess him, to put her lips to him. It was Seattle all over again and he couldn't cope with it. Not now, not again. This time he had no gun, not that he could have used it. As if feeling their presence Tomas' face turned towards them as he spoke in a voice that was not his own:

"Ipse venit."

Neither of the men had the time to figure out what the hell it meant when a gunshot echoed deafeningly in the small space.

Small body slumped to the side, half covering Tomas. Blood seeped out of the wound at the temple, colouring the woman's face red and splattering all over Tomas as his eyes returned to brown.

Jonathan reacted first, grabbing the gun out of Mouse's hand.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell?! Have you fucking lost it?" He howled staring at the woman wide eyed. She turned towards him to say something but Tomas' voice interrupted whatever she intended to say.

"I was not finished!" he roared pushing Tessa's body off and springing off the bed in no time. A couple of large strides brought him straight into Mouse's personal space. "I could have saved her! When the fuck will you learn to let me do my job?!"

"When you'll learn when to quit!" She yelled back undeterred "You were losing and I chose you. I will always choose you and don't you expect me to apologise for it!"

Silence fell loud and heavy in the room as two exorcists stared daggers at each other. It seemed as if all air had been sucked out, a vacuum left in its place. Marcus felt light headed as he stood there, in the room full of coppery smell of blood. The voices seemed distant and the world stopped for a moment before lurching forward with a kick.

"Mouse, out." Came the clipped order in Jonathan's voice, though Marcus could barely recognize it. "Gather your belongings and other bags. We're going wheels up in twenty minutes."

"Tomas, wash your face and disconnect all the devices in the house afterward. I'll pick up your things." When no one made a move he raised his voice a notch "Go now!"

As both exorcists moved and left the room the brunette walked around to stuff Tomas' things into his bag. That done he turned towards Marcus, who was still silent by the wall.

"Marcus, you coping?"

The exorcist only managed to nod. He was still staring at the dead body of the girl, who taught him card tricks that very evening. ' _How many? How many friends we'll have to lose?_ ' he thought absently, the faces of all those already lost flowing through his head.

"I'll manage." He squeezed out. "But we need to do something about…her."

"I'll take care of the body. Leave her where the police could find her in the morning. We have to be gone before then. Can you pick up our things? And before you go, maybe you can give her some last rites or something? Feels wrong to just…" he broke off, gesturing at the body slumped on the bed.

"I'm not a priest any more…and she wasn't even Christian…I don't know anything Buddhist." Marcus spoke apologetically. He walked up carefully to their former comrade and ran his fingertips over her arm, it was still warm. "Thank you…and I'm sorry." He whispered feeling tears cloud his vision. Jonathan stood right beside him and spoke quietly:

"Lord we entrust this young woman into your care. We pray for your comfort for her family, her comrades and her friends. Thank you for her life and her service to her country. We pray her death will somehow be used to hasten the cause of peace, to bring an end to this terrible war."

As the last words rang in the silence he locked eyes with Marcus' watery, but questioning gaze.

"It's the prayer said over a fallen soldier if we do not know his or her preferred religion." The former marine explained quietly. Neither of the men saw a figure of a woman, standing outside the door, just out of view, tears running silently down her face. In a moment, when Marcus got up to pack, she was gone.

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See you next chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

Hello, my dearest readers! After a whole month I'm finally finished with another chapter. This one will be fast paced and purely action oriented, more or less.I'm sorry it took me so long, but my son got hospitalized for a while so I had no time to write. Hopefully coming chapters will take a little less time.

Anyway, back to the story! Your opinions and comments are always welcome as you well know! ^.^

 _xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

 _Day one after_

The morning after that horrible night brought them a lot of news, quite few of them dreary. They had a week. A week to get to New York and find a way to eliminate Isabella Brier and her whole band of merry infernal bastards. If that opportunity slips, she'll be lost to them for a long while – in Italy, where Mouse was currently headed to.

Bennett appeared in Vatican. The Pope was in Vatican and they needed to keep the holy man safe, somehow. If the demon meant what it meant, the patriarch was still their target. Or they misinterpreted it altogether.

Marcus felt numb. He tried to find the strength to play the buffer between Mouse and Tomas – they were still on thin ice. At least now he realized what Tomas meant when he said he killed people. It may not have been him, who pulled the trigger, but Marcus saw he felt the guilt as his own.

Their little misunderstanding in the kitchen seemed suddenly so far away, so irrelevant, childish even. So what if Tomas kissed him and realized it was not what he wants? So what if he doesn't love Marcus in that way? He never expected him to. But one truth that stayed unchanged was the fact that every time Tomas is hurting Marcus will be there to comfort him, to keep him safe. And Tomas accepted that comfort without hesitation. The problem was finding the spirit to give it to him.

 _Day two after_

Yet again he felt like a half empty pitcher, just for entirely different reasons. His power as an exorcist was there, just under his skin, but the strength to be a pillar for all his loved ones was slowly draining.

He barely had the time to talk to Jonathan after they hit the road, but the small touches the other man discreetly bestowed upon him whenever possible kept him upright somewhat. When Cody sent Mouse out to Vatican another woman took her place by their side. Now she was driving Mouse's green Volkswagen behind them. Sandra, she was called. Not very talkative, but a sweet girl nonetheless. The first thing she told him was that whoever had done his ink on the shoulder ought to be shot. It was her profession before all hell broke loose, it seems. He liked her…and wondered how long exactly she'll live.

Now they switched and drove in relative silence while the former driver slept in the back seat. Jonathan was sleeping at the moment and Tomas was behind the wheel. He got better at it. Out of nowhere Tomas' voice broke the silence:

"I need to apologize to you."

"What for?" Marcus asked hoping it was not the kiss again. There were only so many apologies for it he could hear.

"For being a coward. For doing something important…something meaningful for the entirely wrong reasons. I kissed you then because I was afraid. It…shouldn't have been so." Tomas spoke resolutely, but just above whisper. His eyes never left the road.

"I told you I forgave you for it. It's not like you've put a knife between my ribs for no good reason. It hurt no one." Marcus tried to pacify him, though at the time it really felt like a knife between his ribs.

"Yes it did. It hurt you. You trusted me and I used that trust wrongly. This…this fight…It will most likely cost us many lives and I want you to understand, just in case, so please just let me speak. You don't have to answer, just let me say it."

A little taken aback Marcus just nodded and in a second realized Tomas could not see him, he was still looking at the road. "Okay."

"When I was captured, in my visions I saw all kinds of horrible things, but the most wrecking were the visions of you. You and me, together. Not as friends, as a…as a couple."

Marcus suddenly felt the need to throw up. 'Oh, God please stop talking.' He thought desperately, but Tomas washed that thought away as he continued:

"Not because it was torture to be that way with you, but because it felt so…I felt so happy I didn't want to leave. They were my greatest temptations, Marcus. So when you saved me, the tenderness you showed me, the care…I mistook it for lover's affection and it made me afraid that it was one of her visions again, that I was still a prisoner. I…" Tomas' chest expanded as he took a long and deep breath before bulling on despite the evident discomfort. "I convinced myself, that if I would kiss you and you'd refuse me, push me away…it would mean that I'm really there, out…I was so lost in my own fear I didn't think about the position I put you in by doing it."

"Tomas, you…I thought…" Marcus was speechless, lost and terrified. Did he understand that correctly? And if he did…What then? He was already on the way to falling in love with another man and pushing his feelings towards Tomas back into their cage of 'brotherly love'. The havoc of his heart was probably seen on his face as Tomas suddenly found the need to assure him.

"I won't be a bother for you and agent Archer, I saw the way you look at each other and I wish you all the best. I just wanted you to know that…I did what I did for entirely wrong reasons but with the right feelings at heart."

Before Marcus had the chance to collect the right words in the right order Sandra started to signal them from the back.

There were two black cars heading their way without faintest interest in any rules or regulations. Tomas instantly stepped on it and they took a very sharp exit towards a side road. The road blessedly lead them to railway tracks and a red sign showing a train coming. Both cars slipped through before the endless row of carts started to flow. So much for highways.

When the adrenaline waned they were too busy finding another route and stayed on the smaller roads from that day on. Marcus promised himself to find the right moment to bring it up, but it never came.

 _Day three after_

Another day of driving left them in the wild jungle of the great New York. Thank goodness the target – a large mansion - was ways off of down town in a rich suburban area. Well lit streets, neatly kept gardens and large, imposing fences. The bloody demons lived all together, like a King's court. They'll die as one, too, Marcus decided.

There was no hope to exorcise that many demons, most of them already integrated. Dousing them with holy water would cause pain, but not destruction. They had no way of getting their hands on the holy Eucharist, as Mouse explained it could be done. Frankly, Marcus was glad to avoid that method. So it was fire. Fire cleanses all and it will cleanse these unclean spirits within its flames.

After the first appraising look at the target they slept like the dead on the floor of an empty house they currently called home. He woke up with Jonathan's hands wrapped around him and felt guilty for the relief it brought him.

They had less than four days left to form a plan, execute it and ditch town. Time was ticking fast.

 _Two days before_

Sandra was out shopping for an alarm clock. The electronic kind. Jonathan told her what else he will need to create a time controlled mechanism to activate fire sprinklers in the entire house. That was the plan they managed to come up with after watching the house for a couple of days and investigating the floor plans Cody has sent them.

The place was huge so there was no way to just start a fire in one place and expect it to spread. Thus they will use the fire sprinkler system, but modify it to sprinkle gasoline instead. It's the cheapest fire accelerant they could think of, that still gets the job done. They'll need a shitload of it, so thankfully it was not Sandra's job to get it. She was hauling enough wires and clocks as it was. Marcus was just in with the first load of gasoline when his phone rang. It was Mouse.

"Mouse?" He answered dropping the tanks and fumbling with the old phone. First thought that came to his mind was 'please let it not be bad'.

"Marcus, how is your end of the game going?" she asked remarkably conversationally considering they were discussing murder.

"Good enough, but the less you know about it the better. Not to take any chances and all that?"

"I know. How's our boy?" she asked carefully. Ever since the night she shot Tessa Mouse only called Marcus, not Tomas, and occasionally asked a question or two about him. It was clear she was worried she'd broken him.

"He's fine, Mouse. Meditating. He's stronger than you think, stop worrying." Marcus reassured for maybe the third time that week. It may or may not have been true, but she couldn't do anything from Rome anyways.

"That sounds awfully hypocritical coming from you…" She trailed off with a hint of a smile in her voice. The exorcist had to bite his tongue not to retort something back. Instead he chose to redirect the conversation.

"Did you manage to find a hole into Vatican?"

"Just barely. I have to be careful, Bennett is there already and I think he's about to make a move. I'll get to His Eminence, but the problem will be to get him to listen to me. That's why I'm calling." There was a short pause before she added "I need Tomas to contact him beforehand and warn him about me. Could you ask him?"

If human soul could sigh Marcus' would have done just that. These two idiots were dancing around each other with him as a safe medium, but it had to end one day. "How about you ask him yourself?" he said while walking the short dusty hallway to another room "Tomas?" he called out despite Mouse's sputtering on the other side of the line "Mouse needs to speak to you." Without much pomp and circumstance he shoved the phone into Tomas hand and left the room.

Surprisingly there were no yelling coming from the room and that same evening Tomas spent a good amount of time in the spirit world, hopefully speaking with the head of the Catholic Church.

 _One day before_

Jonathan sat at the table with wires and microchips scattered around. No one really understood what he was doing, but they could only hope it will work. They're going to fill the pipe system with gasoline tomorrow after dark and attach he timer along with ignition to it at the same time.

Marcus and Tomas were huddled together in a corner, checking the schedules of all the demons residing in the house. They will leave for Italy in thirty eight hours, so there will be a moment in time when they will all be in the house to pack. That's when the attack was supposed to happen. Tomas' thigh was touching Marcus' shin and the older man tried to ignore the fact that he was ridiculously aware of the proximity. The confession still rang in his mind on repeat and the smell of Tomas' skin so close was distracting. He always liked that natural, warm and just slightly musky scent, it reminded him of the nights spent together in the truck or sitting side by side on a job. The silent support system. He needed it now more than ever, even though it made him feel guilty – they still had no time to talk about _that._

Sandra made him lose former train of thought by walking into the room with a huge bowl of water.

"Need some help with that?" Marcus asked instantly getting up.

"No, I'm good, thanks. Just gonna bless this for the signs on the walls." She explained and sat on the floor in front of the metal bowl. They had a precaution in place if the demons would somehow notice the attack and decide to flee – Sandra will write some signs on the outer walls to trap the demons in. She had only done it once before to a single room, but she told them it worked, so they had no other option but to trust her. What Marcus found more questionable was her ability to bless water.

"You sure you can do that?"

"We all can, I think. All children of God can bless water. We do it to food every day, don't we? There's no need for , like, special permission." The red haired woman shrugged nonchalantly. It never failed to surprise Marcus how easily she took her powers in stride. So he sat further away to watch, wondering what will she do.

Sandra's white hands submerged into the bowl and she spoke barely audibly. "Father, take my heart and make it yours. Farther, take my hands and make them yours. Let all I touch be blessed by your love as we all have been from the moment of our birth. Amen."

With no further ado she got up and proceeded to fill up bottles. Marcus drew his rosary out from under the knit sweater and started to pray. They're going to need it.

 _The day_

It was getting dark. The watch spot they chose was up in a tree by a nearby house – the owners were out and the only thing separating the two properties was a large stone fence with hops growing on it. Tomas sat in one of the branches observing the flow of demons in and out. The lady of the house and her bodyguard were already inside, arrived in a sleek black limousine. Soon the rest will swarm in for the night and the show will begin.

Jonathan and Marcus were both out, in the basement of the mansion, filling the pipes with gasoline. After dark they will sneak out and Sandra will step in to seal the walls when all the rats are in. It was Tomas' job to coordinate everyone and ensure they would be in and out safely. The problem was he was getting distracted by a prickly feeling of uneasiness. Everything was in order, planned out and as safe as they could manage, but somehow he still had a feeling that even if they succeed tonight it will be a Pyrrhic victory at best. Something was looming over their heads and ready to drop.

When the night finally fell, fully covering the ground, Marcus sneaked back out first to check the path for Sandra. Clambering up to perch on a nearby branch he reported instantly:

"All clear. No one on the path or anywhere else."

"Where is agent Archer?" Tomas asked a little worried. The man was supposed to be with Marcus.

"Still in the basement. The mechanism is twitchy, or so he says. Stayed a bit longer to make sure it'll work without a hitch." Marcus answered without taking his eyes of the yard. Tomas started to think it may have been a mistake to tell him the truth. Now there is this sizzling tension between them and he cannot get rid of it. It permeates the very air around them like the smell of ozone after a lightning strike. Unfortunately the younger priest was not brave enough to bring it up again. _'If Marcus wants to talk, he will talk.'_ Tomas decided and focused his own eyes away from the shadowy figure of the man beside him and back to the large white building.

With the two exorcists on watch Sandra quietly made her way over the lawn and flattened herself right against the white wall. Then she started the strange job of writing invisible symbols on it every few meters. It all went surprisingly well…until it didn't. She had moved all around the outer perimeter of the house and only had a couple of symbols left, when Tomas noticed two shadowy figures turning a corner further away from Sandra, chatting easily. He slapped Marcus' shoulder and the man turned with annoyed expression on his face, until he saw what Tomas was pointing out, that is. After that the older exorcist started to desperately fumble with his phone, trying to call Sandra. It was too slow for Tomas liking. Despite the danger he jumped down and was already halfway up the fence when Marcus finally gave up and ran after him.

They were both speeding over the lawn, feet slipping in the moist grass when a shot rang deafeningly in the empty yard.

Heart beating in his throat Marcus hoped it did not hit target… but fate was not so merciful that evening. Right before their eyes Sandra fell to the ground like a wet sack. Finally reaching their comrade Tomas grabbed her bottle of holy water and spilled it into the demon's faces making the infested growl and stumble back for a second. With a litany of Latin flowing freely out of his mouth he managed to force the demons back, though it was hardly enough to change anything. Another two shadows appeared from around the corner unbeknownst to both exorcists, so when Marcus nearly reached Sandra's form on the ground, he couldn't understand why the lights went out.

As he regained consciousness tied to a fancy, polished chair and saw Tomas on a similar chair beside him he thought this couldn't get much worse. It did.

"Well, now, what an honour indeed." Spoke a woman with crimson red hair styled elaborately into sultry curls. She sat in an armchair a few steps away. "It's nice to see you again, dear Father. And Marcus Keane - the legendary fighter. You look…less impressive than I expected." She commented spilling an appraising look over Marcus.

"Well, y'know what they say about books and covers…" he sneered at her.

"I suppose. You probably want to know about the little girl you brought with you? I'm happy to inform you she is successfully bleeding out on the grass. I'm sure it won't be long now."

"Help her." Marcus heard the desperation in Tomas' voice. Neither of them wanted to lose another human life. "Please. She will be harmless when wounded."

"And what are you ready to bargain for it?" She smiled at him sweetly. To his credit Tomas had enough sense to redirect the question back at her.

"Why do you want me so much to bargain for it? What is it that I have? There were others like me, why not just use them?"

"Well, since you ask so politely…And will take the answer to your grave…" She trailed off turning one curl around her finger absently. "I'm fond of you." Lilith smiled at the dark haired priest. All Tomas could do was stare speechless. "I took so much time with you because there is passion in your heart, a raging inferno that you keep locked up – like a forest fire trapped in a bottle…so much potential, dear Father. The desires you denied yourself for so long…Should I tell Marcus exactly what I showed you?"

Marcus saw Tomas pale instantly and hurried to interfere:

"What you showed him, demon, is on you, not him. All it reflects is your wretched soul!"

"Oh, no. I didn't need to do much, really. _Father_ Tomas here has plenty of imagination. I would have kept him, you know? The others were meant to die as sacrifices for the coming of the dawn, but he was supposed to stay by my side. And you, Marcus, I always wanted to make you his plaything. Oh what a pleasure it would have been to watch you two…"

Ignoring the filth Marcus' brain filtered through her words. _The coming of the dawn._ Only then it all connected in his brain. _Ipse venit. He is coming._

"You want to bring the morning star into this world!" The exorcist concluded out loud. "It was never the Pope. He is coming. It was Him, the prince of hell."

"My, my, aren't you one clever cat…" Lilith smiled wickedly, seemingly impressed with his reasoning. "It's a pity you won't be able to do anything about it now. We have enough prophets to conclude the ritual, all we need is a proper vessel – and who could be better than the head of your beloved church."

"So that's why Bennett is back in Vatican?!" Tomas spoke out loud, though he didn't mean to. To both exorcists' surprise the queen of demons suddenly turned deadly serious.

"Find out if it's true." She snapped at one of her servants by the door. "Keep him away from our vessel. That fool cannot get there first." The man nodded and left the room in a hurry. Only one guard remained with them in the room and Marcus was infinitely grateful for demon's trademark superiority complex. They never seem to think humans can be dangerous.

"Trouble in paradise?"He said catching on quickly. The fact she doesn't want Bennett near the patriarch was obvious, the reason was not. Yet.

"Not at all, that domesticated fool is hardly competition. He spent too long in that wrecked church of yours. He will never stand as our king's first!" Catching herself the demon righted her posture and spoke much calmer "But enough about that, you had too much fun at my expense as it is. Still I am a merciful queen, so I'll give you one last chance."

A man by the door moved into the room to open a cabinet and take out an urn. He set it at his mistress' feet and moved away quietly.

"You can still stay by my side. The both of you, together - I would never dare part such ferocious love. Think about it, Lion. You can have Tomas all to yourself, freely."

Before Marcus could even retort Tomas chuckled darkly beside him "That is where you are mistaken, demon. He does not want me. You can tempt me with your promises, dig into my wretched heart…but not his. Marcus does not love me." It was delivered in a perfectly calm, if a bit mocking monotone and Marcus would have been beyond proud if not for the fact he could see the pain in Tomas' eyes. It cut like a thin knife into Marcus' heart, just like a razor blade on skin. That moment, when his vision grew blurry with entirely unwanted water in his eyes, he would have given anything to erase the expression of pained resignation off Tomas' face. The demon just stared and smiled at the both of them almost sadly.

"Oh, sweet Father…how tragically naïve of you…"

When Tomas turned towards him for validation, for some kind of support of his statement, Marcus could not speak a single word. The cursed water in his eyes spilled over and fell down in rivulets. If he was honest to himself, there was a good chance they are going to die tonight. At the barrel of a gun or in raging flames, it didn't matter. One thing was fact - he could not die without saying it out loud.

"Marcus…?" Tomas questioned so quietly it was barely audible in the quiet room. Both fear and hope filled that single word to the brim, so Marcus dragged in a ragged breath and for the first time since they met spoke the unedited truth.

"It was always you, from the very beginning. From the moment you told me you'll go as far as it takes I…I've loved you. Your unwavering faith, your fierce heart, I love it now and always. No matter what happens tonight." When the floodgates opened it was impossible to shut it down anymore, to keep it short. Words spilled and tumbled over themselves like a mountain river – wild and unstoppable. "I tried to be good, God knows, I tried to make this love the proper sort, but I can't. No matter how many people, good people, I meet along the way, how easy it would be to love them…at the end of the day 's still you. Only you. Always you. I've…I've never had a home before, but I do now. You're home. I'm sorry, Tomas, I'm so sorry…should've never offered you to come with me, you would've been safe…"

"I don't want safe." Tomas interrupted him and forced the exorcist's eyes to focus on him, like drawn by a magnetic force. The fire was back, burning brightly in the brown depths again. "I want to be with you in any way you will let me. Marcus, Marcus please, listen to me. I chose you and this path. I want to walk it beside you no matter where it will lead; even through the worst of it I was always happy because you were there beside me." Tomas soft baritone fell to almost a whisper, it caressed Marcus' skin instead of a hand Tomas couldn't reach out. "I love you my teacher, my friend…my heart. 'Till death do us part does not apply to us. I will love you in this life and the next. Whatever comes we will face it."

The moment shattered as the sound of slow clapping filled the room.

"Oh my, this is better than theater. Even my visions cannot live up to the real thing it seems. It will be a loss to kill you, but I'm afraid it must be done. Or have you changed your minds?"

Marcus opened his mouth to bark out an answer but the door swung open and a panting young woman fell through it.

"My lady, we can't get out. There is a barrier keeping us in and we don't know where it comes from." She composed herself by the end of the sentence but the distress was still evident. Lilith's face contorted into a sneer.

"What have you done?" she hissed at the exorcists "Tell me right now, or I will tear you limb by limb myself!"

Both exorcists stared at each other for a short moment. Sandra had finished the barrier. That was the only explanation and it meant she was still alive. Fighting spirit returned to Marcus filling him up with strength he didn't even knew he had.

"Speak, exorcist!" the demon queen raged sliding out of the armchair with the grace of a cat. She was only a step away from Marcus when the lights went out leaving the room in complete darkness.

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See you in the next chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

Hello may dearest readers and I must apologize for the absence of a chapter last month. It was one hellish month, but I'm giving you a bit longer chapter this time. I hope you'll forgive me ^.^ Also, even if I don't post for a while, please know I fully intend to finish this story, there's not much left. Right, here it is!

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 _'Why were it always women, who did all the service jobs in every large institution, Church included?_ ' Mouse wondered half annoyed. Not that it didn't work out to her advantage. The cleaning crew were gray dressed, silent and well, very _mousy_ women. She fit right in. Silently shuffling down the halls with her cart of cleaning supplies she took notice of the guards changing by his Holiness' door and sneaked right in. If found, she'll just say she mixed up the rooms on her cleaning schedule. Or knock their lights out, depending...

The chambers were made to be opulent, but now it looked as if whoever lived there tried very hard to make it as simple as possible. The only gold embossed decorations were the ones stuck to the walls. Otherwise in the bedroom there was one wood framed painting of Christ giving out bread and fish and a plain wooden cross. Nothing else. She had known the current Pope was a virtuous and humble man, but this surprised even her. The bed needed only minor adjustments as it was and a change of linens, and the old wooden closet had various robes in it along with some simple clothing. There was enough space for one woman to crouch down and hide in there, so Mouse folded herself into the uncomfortable position and waited quietly.

In less than half an hour, according to his schedule, the Pontiff will come back to his chambers and spend about two hours in prayer. It should be the perfect time to approach him. The minutes ticked away slowly with the overbearing sound of her own breath and what little sight she did have through a small crack in the door, but when the door to the chamber opened, Mouse was certain it was way too early. Rapid footfalls of two separate pairs of feet put her on edge instantly. This time was usually reserved for private prayer, who would dare to interrupt it?

"I would like to take time to reflect on this matter, Father, please..." The low but gentle tomes of one male voice echoed in the empty space. Somehow Mouse just knew it was the Pope. There was something about his voice - both gentle and unobtrusively commanding. Parental.

"I'm afraid it cannot wait, Your Eminence." Came the reply and all hair stood on Mouse's body. She knew that voice.

"It must. I shall not take such strong measures without praying beforehand. Perhaps in my prayer I shall hear what would be best for the entirety of God's family."

"I'm sure you are ever connected to the desires and hopes of the Almighty, and I assure you, Your Eminence, it is the logical decision to terminate the practice of exorcism. It makes our Church seem outdated and archaic in the eyes of society."

"Perhaps, but would you pray with me on the matter?" The Pontiff asked gently but insistently as he moved into Mouse's line of vision and lowered himself to the floorboards in front of the cross. He dipped his fingers into a small bowl of holy water and crossed himself, clearly offering the other man - Bennett - to do the same. When the man didn't move, a quiet flow of words followed.

"In the Name of Jesus Christ,  
our God and Lord,  
strengthened by the intercession of the Immaculate Virgin Mary,  
Mother of God,  
of Blessed Michael the Archangel,  
of the Blessed Apostles Peter and Paul and all the Saints.  
and powerful in the holy authority of our ministry,  
we confidently undertake to repulse the attacks and  
deceits of the devil.  
God arises;... "

Mouse's eyes grew larger with every familiar word and the feet in black polished shoes stepped back. A cicada started to chirp somewhere very close. It was not the season for cicadas, but the sound only grew louder, as if an entire flock of the damned insects decided to make a choir. It echoed off the walls, mingling with the words of the ancient ritual.

"What is the meaning of this?" The voice seemed barely controlled, on the verge of ether panic or rage."I am well aware of the rite, why recite it to me?"

The Pontiff didn't stop or falter for a second, the words flew out of his mouth in a quiet, but relentless flow. He didn't even turn to look at Bennett.

"His enemies are scattered  
and those who hate Him flee before Him.  
As smoke is driven away,  
so are they driven;  
as wax melts before the fire,  
so the wicked perish at the presence of God. "A quiet growling could be heard in a second and a black figure pounced on the Pope's form clad in white. The woman jumped out of her hiding place ignoring stiff joints and a slight stumble on the way out. She reached into her pocket for the syringe with holy water.

Bennett's hands were clasped over the holy man's neck from behind, but the eyes that turned towards her were amber yellow. She quickly decided to aim for the neck but suddenly the creature screamed in pain and stumbled back clutching it's thigh. There wasn't all that much blood, but the howling was inhuman and it didn't stop. Only when Mouse took a better look at the old Pope's hand did she realize why. In the tan, wrinkled palm a white and sharp shard of a bone shone brightly. A bone of a saint, no doubt.

"I have been granted a vision of warning. Tell me your name, child." The elderly man asked over the, somewhat quieter, growls of the demon on the floor.

"I am Mouse." she said keeping her eyes on Bennett's imposter. She'll have to restrain him soon. "I've come to warn your Excellence of demonic influence in Vatican."

"Yes, yes. I was foolish to ignore my own doubts. Could you kindly hand me the small urn to your left, child?"

With a little doubt in her eyes Mouse reached for the relatively small vial "What's in it...if I may ask?" Being polite was hard. And distracting. Bennett's imposter nearly managed to reach her ankle, but thankfully long honed instincts reacted and she sidestepped the outstretched hand.

"Holy oil." the man said as he proceeded to spill the oil in a neat circle around the demon on the floor. Cicadas sang louder and louder...and stopped the second the circle closed. He turned towards Mouse with dark brown eyes full of determination. "Now, tell me everything."

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It was twenty minutes to 10 - as in 10 PM when the whole inferno was due to start - and the watch spot was empty. Jonathan stood rooted to the wet lawn under his feet, calculating every possibility. They could have left for some reason, but Marcus would have called. They could have been spotted, or they might have went to aid Sandra in her task. Heaving himself up the branches the man froze midair when his eyes landed on the white building wall. There were two red symbols on the white surface, glaringly bright even in the dim lighting of the mansion yard. Feeling his blood run cold he jumped down and ran to the body slumped on the ground by the wall. It was Sandra and after a short inspection it was clear she was breathing. Unconscious, wounded, but alive. She had written on the walls in her own blood...Combined with the profusely bleeding wound in her abdomen, the coppery smell of blood permeated the air. Jonathan looked around hastily, but there were no demons around her. They seemingly have left her for dead. Hoping against hope that the remaining two men are in similar - or better - state at least (despite clear signs of struggle) Jonathan hauled her body upon his shoulders in a fireman hold and sprinted to the wall.

The ambulance sirens appeared in the dark approximately where he had left Sandra just a couple of minutes ago. Breathing the damp and a little stale air of the upcoming winter Jonathan checked his watch. Thirteen minutes to check if Marcus and Tomas are still in the mansion and get them out before the whole place went up in flames. Easy-peasy.

Feeling his heart beat wildly somewhere in his throat the agent ran back to the cursed building and slipped over the wall. _Confuse, divide and neutralize._ Following the familiar procedure he felt almost an unnatural calm settling over his mind and body. Everything suddenly seemed like a premeditated plan. He knew exactly what to do, how to do it...and what the outcome will be.

For the previous few days, ever since the night at the bar, Jonathan had had a feeling his time is ticking out quickly. Like an itch beneath his skin it had spurred him to implement some...precautions. Do something he never thought he'll do. Now the brunette was beyond relieved it was done, because one fact became painfully clear to him.

 _'I will die tonight.'_

The thought somehow didn't seem remotely as scary or as threatening as it should have. There was no panic, no regret, just a strange feeling of being engulfed in an embrace - loved, protected and calm. ' _So that's what it feels like to be loved by God, to be in His service. No surprise Marcus likes to work for Him. Marcus. He'll live. He'll be alright._ ' Repeating that last thought in his mind instead of a prayer Jonathan went about cutting the electricity supply for the house.

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The darkness was so sudden it took a moment for Marcus' eyes to adjust to the change. He didn't waste the precious few seconds, however. Feeling a rush of power and unbeatable instinct to protect Tomas and Sandra, and Jonathan he planted his feet into the ground and pushed. Pain split his hands and shoulders as the chair fell backwards,but it splintered the wood and allowed him to get one hand free. A faint form of Tomas was to his left and another two vague blobs of mass were moving towards them. One of them stopped midway and the other launched at Marcus, who managed to fish the iron rosary from under his shirt just in time. The aim was half blind, but a sound of a growl and sizzling of burning flesh told Marcus he got the target right. Even when a hand closed over his throat he used the last gusts of breath left to whisper Holy Mary.

Why did he choose that prayer was beyond him, but the face of Mother Bernadette rose before his eyes as he spoke. It felt almost as if she was there, beside him. The dry, warm, wrinkled hand caressing the back of his neck reassuringly as the pressure slowly ceased and the demon drew back hissing. This he could handle, the problem was that Tomas was for some reason eerily still beside him and Lilith stood frozen maybe a step away. Ignoring it for the moment he used a nearby candle holder to knock the other demon unconscious - it took three hits and a scratch over his left cheek, but finally the infernal bastard fell down and didn't get up.

"Tomas!" he whispered loudly, grabbing approximately where his partner's hand ought to be. "Tomas, can you hear me?" There was no answer and the exorcist's rushing mind supplied one option only - he was in the mind of Lilith, fighting her.

 _Tomas maneuvered the corridors of his childhood home with almost instinctual knowledge of where to go. Even if he left when he was only six, the memories were surprisingly vivid. Especially the one he came to encounter.  
_

 _His mother sat at the table clad in white and stared into space, speaking quietly in Spanish. There was no one to listen to her words. He remembered standing in the doorway and listening, but as a small child he didn't see anything wrong with it. The adults did, though. Every time his mother would hear a nonexistent noise or start to speak to thin air, his father would drag both children out of the room cursing...until one day men dressed in white dragged mama out instead. Papa left soon after.  
_

 _Abuelita later told him she had an illness of the mind. Schizophrenia was the name of it, though it meant nothing to him then. She said people who had it saw and heard things that weren't there...so he never dared to tell her about the strange things he sometimes saw in his room. Or in the market. Or beside the church. He didn't want the white men to take him away too...He didn't tell her about the dreams ether and when he prayed enough, they stopped. So he prayed, hoping that if he made himself good enough, mama might take him to live with her too, like Olivia.  
_

 _"You never became good enough for her, now did you?" came a gentle, cooing voice beside him. Turning Tomas didn't even flinch when he saw Lilith standing there. This was what he came here to do. He was ready._

 _"I never needed to become anything. She was ill and couldn't take care of herself, and I was small. Olivia had to take care of her. She left me in Mexico because she cared about me."_

 _"Is that so? Or perhaps she was afraid of you?" the demon smiled at him and for the first time Tomas started to see the mask breaking. The lovely face cracked from the corner of her lips, slowly breaking towards her ear as the demon grinned. There was darkness beneath the porcelain skin, it seeped out and dripped down her chin like tar. "You were her son, don't you think she knew?"_

 _"There was nothing to know." He stubbornly refused to rise up to the taunt. "You have lost, demon. I am not alone anymore and I will win - God is with me."_

 _"Do you remember this dream in particular? You should." the demon growled, loosing the sweet voice. When Tomas turned, the scene has changed and at first he didn't recognize it, but in a second the memory slammed into him like a runaway train. How could he have forgotten? This dream he had many, many times. A dream about walking empty tile corridors at night and hearing screaming and scratching behind every closed door, until one door would be open._

 _The corridor was before him now, with the same light green tile and door after door with peeling paint and no handles. The darkness grew thick towards the end and mold covered the door frame as he stepped through it almost against his own will. There it was. The smell of rotting flesh and urine. The soft, once white, padding under his feet scrunched agonizingly loudly as he stepped towards the figure holed up in the corner. White clothes were stained and the long hair he once loved to run his hands through, were in knots._

 _And there were too many hands._

 _Two were clasped and bound to her chest, and another pair - knobby and covered in rot - were ripping small strips of dirty skin off of her shoulders and devouring them with a sickening slurp in the lurking darkness of the corner. Her eyes looked up at the ceiling blindly until the very moment she became aware of his presence._

 _Even if Tomas knew what was coming, had seen it tens of times and thought he had outgrown the effect it had upon him...the terrified, blood curdling scream hit him like a slap in the face.  
_

 _"Get out! _!__ _ _ _ _Get away_! Get out!__"_

 _He staggered a few steps back just to hear the quiet sound, almost like hissing, behind him... it took a moment to realize it's laughter._

 _"Take good look at your future, dear Father. They all end the same. I told you, Daddy dearest likes to torture his favourite toys." Lilith taunted. "You will end up alone in a white, padded cell...with one of my brothers eating you alive...Just like your mommy."_

 _The panic he was trying to overcome or at least postpone came crashing down and Tomas' stomach cramped painfully. With last smithereens of self control the priest started to mumble Holy Mary, Spanish flowing out of his mouth with natural ease. It didn't help much...until he more felt, than heard someone praying with him._

 _Marcus._

 _Marcus was touching him._

 _Praying with him._

'I am not alone. I have never been alone in this battle.' _he thought with immediate relief as his consciousness clung to that thin line of connection. Suddenly the demon's words were empty threats._ 'God loves me, he sent me Marcus. And all this is just a test. Just a lesson.' _He opened his eyes and looked straight at the abyss of hatred reflected in the endless darkness of Lilith's empty sockets.  
_

 _"You asked me once why is God hurting his most loyal servants and I didn't know the answer. I know it now - you showed it to me. He allows us to suffer so we would learn to never lose faith. Just like a blacksmith hits the best blade he has ever made. Every blow is meant to make it stronger. Be afraid, demon. You have tempered the blade that will kill you."_

 _The demon froze in front of him and the darkness surrounding her surged forward, crawling along the floor like a squirming tide of maggots. Tomas stood his ground. Even when it reached his feet, he didn't move._

 _"_ _In the Name of Jesus Christ,  
our God and Lord,  
we confidently undertake to repulse the attacks and  
deceits of the devil.  
God arises and his enemies are scattered.  
_ _As smoke is driven away,  
so are they driven;"_

 _As Tomas' foot stepped forward, the blackness parted under his feet and the demon involuntarily drew away from him._

 _"A_ _s wax melts before the fire,  
so the wicked perish at the presence of God."_

 _He could hear Marcus repeating the words after him when suddenly Lilith screeched, stumbled back and he felt his consciousness being pushed back into his body._

The first thing he heard was a gunshot. Then another one, and one more. Marcus was kneeling on one side of his chair, with both his hands gripping Tomas' arm and his forehead pressed into his forearm. Tomas realized instantly he was free, and so was the older man, but he didn't try to leave. Instead he knelt there and prayed.

'He's ready to die here with me.' was the first thought that crossed his mind and it was enough to spur Tomas into action. He stood abruptly, spooking Marcus and dragging him along. " _Vamonos! Apurate_! Quickly!"

As if woken up from a daze Marcus stumbled a second but soon regained his footing.

"Easy for you to say, took your time. C'mon, or we're roast chicken!" As they stumbled across the room to the door it literally swung open in their faces. Jonathan stood in the doorway holding a flashlight and a gun. He was drenched in blood, seemingly coming from a gash on the man's forehead.

"Four minutes." He announced without skipping a beat. "We need to go now." There was no objections from ether of the exorcists, but a thin white palm wrapped itself around Tomas' ankle and held him back. Lilith was on the floor. Her vessel probably lost consciousness as Tomas regained his, but now the demon queen was getting up and refused to let them go. Jonathan fired at her, but his hands had lost accuracy and the darkness didn't help. It hit the side of her neck.

"Fools! You can hurt the flesh all you want...it won't hurt me! I will still lick your blood off my fingers!" she screamed, but three men sprinting towards the exit barely heard her.

It seemed as if every damn demon in the building had to run into the corridor they were using, though, in their defense, it was the straightest way out. It didn't help the exorcists to move faster, however. Marcus barely registered a strange sound of some gadget beeping. Three little beeps and the world stopped turning for as second as hell's flames engulfed the entire house.

The demons stopped to stare at the sprinklers going off, but soon the flames followed, raining down upon carpets and tapestries, chairs, paintings and the skin of poor bastards inside.

First thing that slammed Marcus back to reality was the lack of air. He couldn't breathe in, and when he did, it felt like it didn't give his body the oxygen it needed. The second thing was a strange cold-but-hot feeling sliding up his arm to his shoulder. It took a moment to realize it's fire. His hand was burning and Tomas somehow managed to throw his jacket over it to kill the flame while pushing him on.

From that point it had all been pure instinct. The one moment he couldn't forget, however, was when Lilith came to chase them down on the way to the stairs. Her vessel finally revealed it's true form - a long-limbed, spidery thing with black eyes and burning hair crawled towards them at incredible speed. Marcus knew the only escape is a door in front of them. If only he could ram it shut while the others escaped...He tried to move out of the way for Jonathan to pass, but a smoking, flaked hand reached towards him. It never found it's goal, simply because another hand, large and pale one, grabbed it before it could ever connect.

A moment stopped in time, like an amber holding millions of years in an endless second - a small drop of eternity - and Marcus eyes found the now familiar stormy gray. Just over a month had passed since he met a man named Jonathan Archer. A month that made him hate the stubborn copper and for a moment think that maybe he could love him. And now he knew it will never be. The peace in those eyes didn't belong in the world of the living. It was the sort of expression one would expect to see in the eyes of a martyr - full realization that they are going to die and the peaceful, unwavering acceptance of it. Fear hit Marcus hard, made him immobile for a split second as a door slammed into his face. The exorcist clawed at the once expensive wood for a moment before registering a strangled yell and a sound of tumbling down.

Tomas was struggling with a female demon at the bottom of the stairs...or more like struggling her body off of him. Battling with himself Marcus ran down the stairs and helped Tomas up. Only when his partner nearly slumped back down to the floor Marcus noticed his foot sticking out at a n unnatural angle. They moved slowly as the flames devoured the fine, stylish decorations and exquisite interior behind them. Eventually, the rich and the poor do die the same.

The few minutes afterward were a chaos of trying to find Sandra (all they found were symbols written in blood) and calling Cody for backup.

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Now, an entire day later, Marcus sat in the quiet charity hospital room under the name Fred and stared out the window. The nurses had bandaged his arm and put Tomas' leg in a cast. He'll use a crutch for a while but it should mend, or so they said.

Everything seemed unnaturally grey - the sky, the buildings, the pavement and even streetlamps. Grey, like the eyes he'll never see again.

 _'I kill people. The blasted demon was right - whenever I stray, someone dies.'_ he thought almost devoid of any emotion _'Should I stay away from Tomas? Would it be better, maybe? Or worse? He's already wounded...'_

The tell-tale clank and shuffle of a crutch stopped just outside his door and sure enough there was a knock a moment later.

"Can I come in?" Tomas sounded so uncertain, as if he's at fault for any of it.

"Yeah, go on." Marcus answered blandly "You got your hands on the paper yet?"

"Yes...well...they say it was electric malfunction, at least publicly." Tomas placed the rolled-up paper into Marcus' hands somewhat reluctantly. "It was the only thing we could do. I..."

"The fashion world mourns a loss..." Marcus read out loud sarcastically "Well they're not the only ones."

"Yes, about that. I...brought something." the younger man seemed reluctant to even say it out loud, so Marcus took a better look at the doorway. Something was partly blocking it - a plain, black suitcase. He looked back at Tomas with a question in his eyes. Whom that suitcase belonged to he knew well enough, the question was why was it here. Marcus didn't have to say any of it. As if hearing his thoughts Tomas spoke on:

"It's Jonathan's belongings. When we...we will have to move on soon. Cody and I, we both thought it's best to leave his things here, the nurses will...give them to the poor and needy. Agent Archer was a good man, I think he wouldn't mind."

"Wouldn't have minded." Marcus corrected absently "Probably. Why bring it to me?"

"It's best to look over them for more personal things and we thought it's best if it was you. If you don't feel like you want to do it, I'll do it." Tomas offered instantly. Poor man looked like he was ready to run on the smallest sign of discomfort. 'Christ, do I look that fragile?' Marcus thought to himself. He didn't feel fragile...frankly, he didn't feel period.

"I...no, roll it in. I'll...sort it."

"If...er...if you are sure. Marcus?" he added quietly and that made the older man look up "I'm here if you need me. Say your goodbye in any way you want...and don't forget you're not alone." With that he ran his hand over the side of Marcus' face in a soft caress and left.

There wasn't much to go through. Sweaters, shirts, shoes. Underwear and shaving tools. It all smelled of Jonathan and the aroma made Marcus' throat close up a few times before he managed to go through the contents of the main compartment. Forcing himself to breathe evenly the exorcist opened the smaller compartment and found only two things there. A wallet and a book.

The wallet he left in peace - someone could use it, but the book...it was relatively worthless to anyone else, but Jonathan loved it enough to take it with him. Turning the cheap and well worn paperback in his hands Marcus noticed something sticking out of it , so he opened the right page just to find a folded note. It read MARCUS in a small and and neat, but rather choppy handwriting.

With shaky hands Marcus opened the plain, white peace of paper and found it full. Holding his breath the blonde read:

 _Hello there, angel,_

 _I hope in case of my death this letter will find its way into your hands, if not, it's the intention that matters, I suppose._

 _The paper I borrowed from one of your sketch pads, I hope you don't mind. You really chose the wrong profession, the drawings are magnificent, though you could have chosen a better model for the last few…_

 _Sorry, I'm getting off topic._

 _I know that despite the circumstances of my death you will find a way to blame yourself for it, so in advance I ask you not to do that. It was decided long before we met, by the almighty himself. When I told you about my little chat with the man upstairs I, well, sort of excluded one tiny thing – he told me it's you, his beloved Lion. You are my last job on this planet. Frankly, I couldn't have asked for a better mission – you are worth living and dying for. He probably didn't count on me falling for you though, so that's on me._

 _I'm awfully bad at this, so forgive me if it comes out ridiculous. I'm writing on the window sill in the moonlight while you're sleeping on the bed after our first night together. Maybe it will be our last, maybe it won't._

 _It was a little selfish of me to take advantage, but the very idea of letting you go thinking you are less than human, when you are so much more, it infuriated me. You are the kindest and most beautiful man I have ever met. For the first time in years I felt alive with your hands upon my skin, touching me, holding on to me – if anything you brought me back to life, not somehow took it away from me. Truly, angel, I'll be forever thankful, in this life and the next._

 _This letter actually has a purpose - I'm not just waxing poetic, so you know. It's my last will of sorts. I don't give a rat's ass what you do with my body or my stuff, but I want to ask a favour of you._

 _Stop trying to save the world alone. Really, all I heard from the moment I met you is that you need to look out for him or her or that kid on the street. Who is looking out for you? It has to go both ways or you will run dry one day. I would have been happy to take care of you for years to come, but it's not going to happen. So I am asking you take care of the people you love and let them do the same in return._

 _It may not be much, but I'm an old gay man, believe me when I tell you Tomas loves you. I don't know if he knows it, but he does. And you love him, so just let it happen. It's that simple, angel. Now you won't dishonor a dying man's will, eh?_

 _Right, one last thing – I love you, you idiot, and I'll be waiting for you on the other side. Don't hurry, I have a feeling there's plenty of time to spare._

 _Always yours,_

 _Jonathan_

"Yeah, alright you bastard. Only you would resort to blackmail after you're already bloody dead." Marcus whispered feeling his eyes welling up. Somehow it was as if a hand had taken a huge boulder off his chest and crushed it into dust. He cried and couldn't stop smiling as he placed the note back into the safety of weathered pages and the book itself into his bag.

The next time Tomas knocked on his door Marcus opened it without hesitation and wrapped his arms around Tomas' neck.

At that very moment Tomas' phone rang.

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See you next chapter!


	14. Chapter 14

Hello again, my fellow fans of The Exorcist. This story is coming to an end and one more chapter should be enough to conclude it. No more fighting for the moment, but there a re better things to do. Enjoy!

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Marcus has never hated a gadget more in his life. Now he officially loathes Tomas phone to the point of stuffing it between the bed and the small bedside table hoping to never see the darn thing again. He was ready - well as ready as he'll ever be – to tell Tomas everything without demons threatening to kill them…and then Mouse had to call.

On the up side, it was good news, at least. She didn't need to convince the Pontiff to trust her, he had a chance to see the demon in Bennett for himself and now was raising hell (as unsuitable as that phrase may be) in Vatican city, ratting every demon out of the institution.

 _'His Eminence demanded every single person in Vatican city to take Eucharist from his own hands. It will take days, but we'll know for sure who's on our side, and who's not.'_ She'd told Tomas before he even turned on the speaker _'By then I need you two here. It should be safe and I might do with some help with Bennett. He's being a hassle, more so with the demon in him. You two are the only exorcists I know of, who managed to get a demon out of an integrated host._ '

They couldn't exactly say no to that. If it had been Marcus' will, they'd be halfway to Europe by now, but surprisingly, Tomas had put his foot down.

' _We are both wounded, Mouse. We need a couple of days to come back on our feet and then we go to Rome. The cleanup should be done by then. Wait, hold him safe. You know how to do that._ ' The strict, somewhat protective tone took Marcus by surprise. Though Tomas had said 'we' he knew it was somehow more for his benefit, despite the glaring fact that Tomas was the one more seriously wounded. So they ended up, ironically, in a motel room, under false names and strict orders not to poke their noses out before fake passports can get to them.

Long story short, that's why Marcus currently wasted time drawing the table and two chairs in front of him for the sheer lack of any other occupation.

It was strange, just the two of them, like the old days. A motel room. Two beds. Tomas was washing up behind the flimsy bathroom door and Marcus could hear every splash of water.

Left alone with his thoughts Marcus was starting to doubt both himself and their hasty confession. Was it real or just spurred by the heat of the moment? But then, Tomas seemed to be more freely affectionate towards him after…that night. Looking down at his somewhat immobile left arm the former priest sighed - it still looked like it could belong to a mummy and hurt like hell, but that was not the worst wound. The physical ones never are.

They had lost so many friends - good, kind, brave people - and he didn't want to think of losing anyone ever again. If the next time it was Tomas slamming a door in his face, Marcus knew for a fact that he will go mad. Proper, flight over the cuckoo's nest sort of crazy.

Giving up on the pointless sketch he dropped the pad by his bed and struggled under the covers. Even now it was so hard to let Tomas out of his sight just for a second, as if seeing him somehow made him safe. ' _If I could I'd just wrap myself around him and listen to him breathe. Yeah, right, that wouldn't be creepy at all. Not a bit._ ' He snorted to himself sarcastically, while burrowing deeper into the cool linens of the creaky bed. When the bathroom door opened he let out a sigh of relief. Tomas was fine. Obviously. By the sound of it he shuffled to his bed, rummaged around in his backpack and then stood still. The seconds ticked, but there was no movement.

"Marcus, are you awake?" Tomas asked so suddenly and quietly the older exorcist wondered if he just imagined it. He hummed none the less and it was enough to spur Tomas on. "I wondered if…would you mind if… I want to sleep with you."

That made Marcus bolt upright. He stared at Tomas wide eyed and opened his mouth to say _something_ , but no sound came out. _'Yes , please, oh God, please.' 'I have no idea how to do that.' 'We haven't even kissed yet…_ ' None of those thoughts seemed appropriate to voice, so he just gaped like a fish. ' _Very sexy, you bloody idiot…_ '

Tomas seemed to understand his mistake. "No, no, no, I don't mean to…" he hastily waved around in a very expressive, temperamental way he does when he's worked up over something, and eventually gave up, pinching the bridge of his nose. "How do you say it when you mean just sleep, not anything…" he trailed off and the blush was visible even over the lovely caramel shade of his skin.

Marcus felt warmth spreading in his chest and radiating out, warming his entire being inch by inch. If it ended up staining his cheeks, it was no fault of his. "Not anything…naughty?" he asked smiling.

"Yes. I'm sorry, forget I said it…" Tomas seemed ready to crawl under the floorboards.

"There is no other way to say it, really. People always mean it in the naughty way, I s'pose." That earned him a reprimanding look. "Are you not sleeping again?"

"No, no I'm sleeping, just…I dream. Not the prophetic kind of dreams." He quickly reassured seeing the openly distressed expression on Marcus' face. "Dreams of the past I don't really want to remember. I slept so well beside you the last time, so I thought maybe you could… let me do it again."

There was a hook there, something hidden, something important, Marcus could feel it. His instincts were honed over years and years of trial and error, the latter often being bloody or painful. The Marcus from two years ago would have grabbed that tentative sentence and pushed until he got answers, but now, looking at those wide, guarded eyes he didn't feel like it. Tomas, his Tomas, is honest and kind, he will tell when he feels up to it, Marcus thought while scooting over to one side of the small bed.

"'Course. Come on, then, get in." The older man smiled gently and lifted his blanket up for Tomas to slide under. The space was narrow as it was, so he turned on his side, facing away from Tomas, that way there was more space left for him to lay down on his back. It wasn't exactly all that smooth, but eventually Tomas ended up in the bed...with his nose between Marcus' shoulder blades and his hand around the other man's waist. The warm palm slid over very tentatively and just laid there without any pressure. Marcus stayed completely still unsure of what to do, so he used the only strategy he knew to avoid discomfort...well one of two, the other one being too violent.

"I'm the taller one, I should be cuddling you, not the other way around." Marcus teased jokingly, squirming carefully to get somewhat comfortable in the circle of warm arms. It felt strange to even think that Tomas _wants_ to be this close to him for some reason. _'It's comfort'_ he told himself _'and here I am almost getting horny. Great.'_ A tinge of guilt tried to slip into his heart, but Jonathan's not so subtle demand came back to his mind and quenched some of it. _'I'm allowed.'_ he tried to convince himself _'It's okay to feel happy in this moment. We won this battle, we survived. We.'_ That last little word made a happy shiver run up his back. _We._ Tomas brought him back to reality:

"Nonsense, you make a great little…fork? Spoon? Which utensil was it?" the younger priest teased back gently, in that charmingly self depreciating way of his, making Marcus snort.

"Spoon. It's a spoon, love."

"Right. Why is it a spoon?"

Now Marcus was downright giggling, shaking a little with the effort not to laugh out loud. Tomas' hand on his waist poked his ribs lightly, just enough to tickle and he repeated himself, also holding back laughter:

" _Oi_ , so why?"

"I haven't the foggiest."

Marcus could feel the hot puffs of air on his back even through the thin shirt. It felt good to laugh again, even if only for a moment. When they finally managed to stop, he suddenly felt warm lips press into the nape of his neck gently. They stayed silent for a few blissful minutes, but the blonde could almost physically feel something brewing in Tomas mind. He was fidgety, couldn't settle in for the night, and considering it was the same man, who managed to sleep with his head rammed into the window of a moving car...

"Out with it." He said mock-sternly and felt Tomas tense up behind him.

"It's…" _nothing_ was clearly on the younger man's tongue, but he stopped himself from saying it. "I think we need to talk. About what happened, what we said to each other…and..."

Marcus' stomach dropped three floors down. ' _He changed his mind.'_ was the first thought rushing to the forefront of his jumbled mind. Even if it didn't seem like it, with all the touching and cuddling, the ever present self preservation instinct kicked in, telling him to protect himself and Tomas, to pull away first. It will hurt, but that'll make it easier on Tomas… "Sometimes in these dangerous situations people say things they don't mean. It's fine to…change your mind when the dust's settled." He reassured, trying to talk past a painfully constricted throat.

Tomas moved a little, sliding his palm over Marcus' bare arm, but remained quiet. The few moments of silence stretched out in the exorcist's mind, as it filled up with all possible outcomes and answers, most of them dreary. Finally Tomas let out a long-suffering sigh and chuckled lightly behind him "Marcus, I have no intention of changing my mind. I thought about this for very long, tried to make sense of it and now I do. I love you. That will not change, but I want you to decide how fast or slow we go from now on. We are both wounded and not just physically, so if you don't want to…touch or hug or kiss just yet, that's okay. Just tell me, I don't want to impose."

 _'Impose? I'm here, barely holding it together because he's solid and warm and so fucking real behind me and he doesn't want to impose?'_ A huge rush of air escaped Marcus in a big whoosh an the words tumbled out with it. "I do." Inevitable heat crawled up his neck and he knew damn well Tomas can probably see it. The curse of being pale as a cheap noodle. There was hardly any point in denying it, so he took a deep breath and forced the words out "'s nice to just feel you, y'know? To know you're safe, alive and here with me. I really...need it right now." _'I would crawl into your skin, merge our bodies into one if I could. I would share your breath, steal it from your lips if I could.'_ was what he wanted to say, but that refused to come out.

Mortified by how whiny he sounds Marcus squeezed his eyes shut and waited, thankful for the position they were in. At least that way he didn't have to actually see the expression on Tomas' face, in case it would be pity. Lips descended on his temple, then his cheek, neck, shoulder. Just small, warm pecks, but they made his whole body liquefied, forced every tense muscle to relax. Tomas hands tightened around him and the familiar voice filled his ears:

"Then I won't let you out of my arms. Whatever you need - anything - it's yours."

"Kiss me?" The words jumped out of his mouth before he managed to stop them, and for once he didn't want to slap himself for that impulsive streak. Otherwise he'd have never managed to voice it - that deep, aching need to be close, as close as humanly possible. There was no vocal answer to his plea, but the arm around him gently nudged Marcus onto his back and when he dared to open his eyes, Tomas was there, just above him. The usually dark eyes seemed alight from within, warm green tones soothing and inviting. There was no pity, no fear or impatience in them, only all encompassing warmth. A gentle palm settled on his cheek, thumb running over Marcus' sharp cheekbone over and over.

"Ever since I woke up in Mrs. Bell's attic I can feel things differently. It...wavers, but I can often feel...echoes of what other people are feeling when I touch their skin." Tomas confessed quietly. All Marcus could do was stare. "For me you were always a mysterious book, written in a strange foreign language. So I learned to love you even if I don't understand sometimes. But now I can understand and it makes me very happy." The younger man brushed their noses together for a second and spoke just barely above whisper "I can feel the need in you...do it, I'm yours."

Something hot and almost climactic suddenly expanded in the former priest's chest, like the wave after an atom bomb it swiped through his entire body, filling it with heat and making his hands tremble with the urgency of it. "As am I . Always, always." he whispered half delirious before grabbing the back of Tomas' neck and pulling him down.

It was fast and desperate, Marcus puling on Tomas, holding him close with a shaky hand in the thick dark hair. It felt so alien, so surreal simply to be allowed to do this. He rushed head first, just in case it was a dream and he'll wake up any moment, bothered and hot.

Full, soft lips felt better than any dream he'd ever had, though, and the fact Tomas was pushing him down into the mattress, answering his desperation with equal blind need - it all made Marcus shake uncontrollably. The tremors ran through his body in spasms, clenching his abdominal muscles, his thighs, arching his back. He may have started the kiss, but now the control shifted and it was Tomas leading him, pushing him down, bending him to his will. All Marcus could do was hold on to those strong shoulders and squirm.

It felt so damn good he would have been happy to die there and then...and due to lack of oxygen he might get there pretty soon, Marcus decided, but refused to stop anyway. His knees slid apart and a sudden pained noise stopped both men in their tracks. Tomas pulled away and shifted a little, cursing under his breath in Spanish. Apparently Marcus accidentally nudged his bad leg a little too hard.

"Tomas? You alright?" the older exorcist asked with a good dash of worry and a bit of panic in his voice.

"Yes, yes, I'm okay. It's just...annoying." Tomas complained and placed a small peck on his lips in a sort of apology. He didn't seem seriously hurt, thankfully, and Marcus couldn't hold back a very undignified giggle any longer.

"Would you look at us? Two cripples. We'll snog each other to death even if the demons won't get to us."

"I'm the cripple, you at least can walk straight and kiss without making a mess of it." Tomas huffed only marginally annoyed now. The skin contact was soothing for both of them and he felt instantly better with every word of their familiar banter. They were on solid ground after so long and Tomas realized he can finally breathe again. An integral part of his life, of his very being, was back in place.

There were still things to be discussed, truths to be told, but it seemed less daunting now. Marcus shuffled around for a bit and eventually settled higher on the lumpy pillow, effectively leaving Tomas to sleep on his chest. Not that he minded.

"No more funny business for us until we can move all our limbs properly, yeah?" Marcus whispered with a small smile. It somehow managed to be both rueful and hopeful at the same time.

"Maybe just a little funny business." He smiled up at the warm blue eyes and settled as comfortably as possible while not bothering Marcus' burned arm. The ratty shirt was almost see through and for once Tomas was grateful for the blonde's bad habit of wearing clothes until they fall apart - it felt almost like sleeping on Marcus' naked chest. Leaving a small kiss on it Tomas closed his eyes and allowed his mind to stop racing. They calmed down and drifted half conscious for a while - painkillers were making both men a little woozy.

After long minutes of silence the younger man spoke up again out of nowhere.

"I'm sorry you lost him." Marcus' eyes were closed and he was breathing evenly, so Tomas thought for a moment he might be asleep, but then a small tear slid down one pale cheek soundlessly.

"Me too. We lost so many friends...Not just me. You, the bloody world, we all lost these good people." Marcus burrowed his face into the wild dark hair and Tomas squeezed him a little tighter. "He left me a letter y'know?" The blonde continued after a few beats of silence."I think I know why you kept those letters now...I kept it. Told me to get my head out of my arse and just live like a normal human being. To love you and let you love me. It's a bit much to ask don't you think?"

"Agent Archer was a demanding man." Tomas said not unkindly.

"That's the understatement of the year." Marcus snorted through a little contracted throat, then added in a very gentle tone "I'm sorry you lost Tessa. I know she meant a lot to you."

"She helped me through it when we were prisoners, she taught me so much about this ability, this gift of mine...and in the end I couldn't save her. I wish I could say I'm sorry, to say goodbye. I tried to find her in the spirit world but couldn't. It's probably better." Tomas spoke quietly, staring at a small hole in Marcus' nightshirt.

"Maybe that means she went wherever we go afterwards. Heaven, higher plane of existence, whatever you call it."

"I hope so. Marcus, I need to tell you something." The tone was suddenly so serious Marcus sat up a little to see his partners face better. Tomas was not looking at him. "Lilith told me something, reminded me...of my mother. She had schizophrenia, the doctors said so,that is why father left us. But she just saw things and heard things that no one else could see, just like me, so I wonder if she had the same gift. They dragged her away to a hospital for insane people and when she returned Olivia said she was not the same." The pause after those words stretched out between the two men. It was clear that Tomas still has something left to say, but Marcus adamantly refused to push him. "Please, promise me...if you ever think I'm going mad you will tell me? If you start thinking it's not the visions any more, but..."

"Listen now, you're no lunatic. That gift of yours may be a bit shifty at times but it's real, we both know that. It's God given." Marcus spoke with absolute certainty and Tomas couldn't stop himself from remembering the time he said the same to Marcus with that unwavering faith. Marcus had told him he's overreaching back then, let him understand it's his own pride talking...and now, look how the times have changed.

"Perhaps so, but please, please promise me. I need to know you will stop me if I start going insane."

"You won't."

"Promise me." Tomas insisted with a feverish heat in his eyes almost radiating out. The desperation he saw there, lurking in the depths, made Marcus slightly queasy but he grit his teeth, set his jaw and answered:

"Promise. I won't let you slip."

"Good." The younger man said with relief, he breathed the word out along with a heavy sigh and fell back down upon Marcus' chest. Long pale fingers threading through his hair eventually lulled him to sleep.

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Tomas woke to the sound of sizzling. And the smell of something meaty baking. He opened his eyes just to be greeted with the sight of Marcus, standing by the small electric stove-top with a fork in his hand. The exorcist nearly started to hyperventilate and was heading towards a panic attack, but Marcus turned towards him with weary eyes and a small, tired smile - no leery grins.

"Couldn't sleep, so thought I might as well make myself useful. The sausages look horrible, but should taste fine and hopefully eggs will make up for it. " he said without batting an eye. A half empty mug of coffee stood on the rickety table, seemingly forgotten. "Want some of this? Or coffee first?"

Against all odds Tomas stomach gave a hearty grumble - the hospital food yesterday did very little to fill him up. "All of it? Or do I have to choose?"

"No, no, cripples get away with great many things..." Marcus grinned at him, sharp and teasing, but his eyes remained gentle. This was his Marcus and there was no reason to panic.

Tomas stood and painstakingly made his way to the countertop. His reward for reaching the destination was a small, but pleasantly lingering kiss from his favourite blonde. Previous evening was both emotionally draining and cathartic at the same time, so now Tomas felt strangely calm, comfortable in his own skin and happy to openly show affection. It didn't feel like some sort of dirty secret anymore. Their feelings were what they were and there was nothing wrong with it. In the bleary morning light the domesticity felt so natural, he could have sworn they'd been together for years. In a way, they actually have.

He kissed Marcus' shoulder along the way and took two plates, that had seen better day out of the cupboard. Breakfast stretched out in comfortable silence, only occasionally interrupted by sparse conversation. The peace lasted entire half an hour, until Tomas' phone rang. It was Cody.

"Morning, father." the hackers voice sounded on the other side of the line. He seemed a little hesitant.

"Good morning."

"I've got some news, but first...Can I not call you 'father' it feels really weird? I mean you're my age and all."

"Of course you don't have to. I'm just Tomas, you should have stopped long time ago if it made you uncomfortable." The jumps in the other man's thinking still took Tomas by surprise. The topic of conversation could easily change mid-sentence and it took some time to get accustomed to, but he was getting there.

"Great. So there are good news and better news. The good one is I've found Sandra. She's in a local hospital under Jane Doe, drifting in and out of consciousness due to blood loss and shock, but alive and hopefully demon-free. We'll need to check, but I'm on it. I've contacted the hospital and we'll have her moved today."

Tomas could have jumped up and down (if not for the leg), he was so happy and beyond relieved. "Marcus? Cody found Sandra, she's alright." he yelled over his shoulder in Marcus' general direction. The smile Marcus gave him was blinding. Happiness, no matter how small, changed his entire face.

"Another good news," the hacker continued undisturbed "your passports should arrive today by courier. I've added a phone to the parcel. There's my new number in it and a few more emergency contacts. Do not turn it on until you're in Italy, got it?"

"Yes, yes. What about this number?"

"I'm ditching it along with my day job. They are getting on my case and it's safer to disappear, thus the new phone. I might join you in the Holy City, just to tease Minne Mouse in person, but well see about that. You should be getting that parcel right...about...now." Just after the last word faded into silence there was a knock on the door. Tomas opened his mouth to answer, but the line was already dead. Typical.

The envelope was average sized, average looking and really not that impressive, considering it held a completely different life for two men. With slightly shaky fingers Tomas ripped the paper and pocketed the phone first. Then two little books fell out. He opened one and saw his own picture in it, the other one he automatically passed to Marcus. Taking a better look at the page Tomas noticed something odd. Not only he had a new name, oh no, he had TWO last names.

 _Antonio Redford-Velasquez  
_

 _'What, for the love of God, is this about?'_ The man thought absently fingering the paper. It didn't look new. There even were a few stamps marking travel, probably for authenticity. Still preoccupied with the document he decided to share his strange experience:

"Marcus? It looks old and I have two last names for some reason..."

"You and me both." the former priest answered skeptically and shoved his own passport in front of Tomas' eyes. In the name area it read _Michael Redford-Velasquez._

Tomas nearly fell over. It's going to be an interesting travel experience for sure... _  
_

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Thanks for reading and see you in next chapter, it should be the final one!


	15. Chapter 15

Fianlly, after such a long pause I managed to finish this story. I'm so sorry for the long wait, but this was the first and last chance to write for a while, so I had to take it. This story is over, but there's plenty of room to continue it if I ever have the time. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Happy reading!

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There were too many people around them, at least for Tomas' taste. He was always a people person, happy to be surrounded by friends, family, parishioners, even the homeless. He loved people, and yet now he felt somehow wary of them. Crowds were dangerous in that way, too many possible threats to be accounted for. Tomas hated himself for thinking of people that way, but the mindset was hard to shake off, thus he felt edgy in the crowded airport, snow falling in shovels outside, wind howling around the corners of the huge building and, of course, travelers and personnel flowing in a steady stream around them both. That was one more thing to get used to, there was a _them_ now, piercing the stream of strangers side by side.

Married. Technically.

Well, at least for a pretense, but it still affected him greatly. The previous evening Tomas had a little panic over the whole matter, but Marcus managed to take the new information in stride and drag Tomas along. He still had problems with the new names, though. It just felt weird...Fake. Marcus was Marcus. It just felt wrong to call him anything else. He tired time and again and it wouldn't roll off his tongue without a stutter, so they came to a solution. Remembering that made the younger man blush brightly in the middle of an escalator ride.

 _"I can't do it. I'll just start laughing or mix it up! It's ridiculous, Marcus." Tomas complained, the pitch of his voice rising exponentially. The wicked smile on Marcus' face was not helping. "No. Don't look at me like that! It's dangerous!"_

 _"What do you propose then? Call it off, leave Bennett in Rome and just go along with our merry lives?" The words may have been biting, but there was less malice and more teasing his voice.  
_

 _"No! No...of course not...just I will fail to, to...act properly, it won't be fluent. I will forget or..." It was slowly spinning into panic. He could handle demons, God knew he could by now, he even managed to deal with dead bodies and other pleasant points of being an exorcist, but lying was still hard. It nearly ate him alive during the Rance case, and then he only had to omit the truth mostly, twist it a little bit. This requires straight out lying. Feeling his heart rate go up and his hands start to tremble a little Tomas turned, ready to start pacing but hands on his shoulders caught him in place._

 _"Hold up, hold up. Tomas, love, it'll be alright. Hear me?" Marcus was holding him firmly in place, hands sliding up to cup his jaw and make Tomas look up at him. When he finally did, there was a strange light in those blue orbs - like he could actually see a light bulb lighting up in his partners mind, followed by a slow, indulgent grin. Damn but it was almost hot enough to make him forget the whole ordeal. Almost._

 _"I have an idea." Marcus declared, still grinning madly._

 _"I'm sure you do." Tomas' tone was more than a little skeptical, but when did that ever stop Marcus?_

 _"Do you have a word you call me in your head sometimes? Y'know, like a sweet nothing, something like...like an endearment?"_

 _Oh this was even worse...Did he have one? Sure. But saying it out loud...He could feel his skin heating up and tried to force it out, but Marcus beat him to it._

 _"I call you love, y'know. It's common enough and doesn't sound like much, but it just... comes so easily when I think of you. I guess it means I mean it." There was such vivid, almost vulnerable honesty on Marcus' face, it made him look ten years younger at least. Tomas couldn't help but smile._

 _"Cariño. It's what I call you. It means..."  
_

 _"I know what it means." Marcus said "I'm hardly all that sweet, but I like it." His smile turned a little crooked and Tomas could practically see the insecurities creeping in._ Sweetie _. It really did fit, because despite his somewhat jagged edges Marcus was the sweetest, gentlest human being he'd ever met and now, it seems, was the time to prove it._

 _"Then I'll call you that way until you believe it." He concluded as he rose up a bit to kiss the beautiful, stubborn man of his life. "Cariño." he whispered indulgently "Mi cariño."_

 _Marcus' smile quivered a little before he bumped his forehead into Tomas' and whispered "It's a plan, then."_

The clerk at the window was giving them a funny look as it was their turn to check in.

"One at a time, please, sir." He said politely towards Marcus and decided to take on Tomas first, clearly due to the walking cane. He'd replaced the crutch with it to draw less attention - and against doctor's orders, too. Even Marcus was somewhat impressed, though he argued against it ferociously.

"It's alright, love. Go ahead. You might as well get a seat afterwards, I'll get our bags." Marcus interrupted before Tomas even had a chance to open his mouth.

"But your arm!" He protested none the less. The clerk was getting more and more confused, until he saw two identical silver bands on their fingers. The particular moment he put all the dots into a line could be pinpointed with the precision of milliseconds. Marcus grinned broadly at the man's carefully blank expression. The rings were a last moment decision, for accuracy of the pretense (or so they said out loud), but both knew it made them feel like actually creating a bond, putting a sign of possession onto each other for all the world to see.

They had a flight from John F. Kennedy airport to London Heathrow and then had to change planes to get to Rome. They knew all that, but the man had to remind them anyway, so he reached his hand out for Marcus' ticket as well.

"Well, in that case, I could take your ticket too, sir. To spare the time."

"Sure, thanks, you're a star." The exorcist thanked with a winning grin and they went through the check-in smoothly and on time. Unfortunately that was the only part that they accomplished on time. When both men finally stumbled into the duty-free area to wait for a call to their gate the snow was still blanketing the ground and filling the air to the point there was little visibility...which meant no flights will take off anytime soon. Trust climate change to give you the middle finger just when you need it least. And sure enough, when Marcus checked the billboard, most upcoming flights were marked as delayed.

They got coffee.

Sat and watched the crowd.

Tomas snoozed on Marcus' shoulder for a good half an hour and their flight was still marked as delayed.

After three long hours of waiting, the snow finally let up and they got off the ground. After more than a week of sleeping four hours a night on pins and needles they happily slept, ate and dozed some more, cuddling up to each other for comfort as much as possible. Tomas smelled like coffee and warm male body, which made Marcus want to wrap himself around him and sleep for days. So he did, waking up briefly, here and there, when the aircraft shook. Once he caught a young woman in a oversized sweater and a bun of dark hair atop her head smiling at them like they were a basket full of kittens. A few people gave them dirty looks, but not one person said a word. Marcus still remembered times when there would have been a riot and was grateful they were in the past, more or less. Passive aggression was at least better than active aggression.

When they touched ground in London it was four hours too late for their connecting flight to Rome, so the pleasant young stewardess kept apologizing and piling voucher after voucher onto Tomas' outstretched hand. There was no flight until mid morning tomorrow, so the airlines even made the effort to get them a hotel room to spend the night and a free taxi ride to boost. It wasn't that late yet and the weather was decent, so upon exiting Tomas grasped Marcus' elbow and gently asked "Do you want to go straight to the hotel or wander around a little? It's probably been a while since you were back home?"

"I'd rather not. That leg of yours could use some time up on a pillow, and if I'm all that honest, I don't think it's a home for me any more. I was born here, but it holds very few good memories. 's just a country, like any other."

"If you're sure...But It might still be nice to not be in a motel room for a little longer. And I was sitting the whole flight, so maybe think about it?" Tomas knew he was fishing, and his leg _was_ starting to hurt, but it felt like a crime not to use this small moment of peace between battles. One they already won and another one is still coming. Another problem they'll have to face at the gates to Vatican city is the question of where do they stand. The shiny rings were going to be hidden in their pockets, his collar will be back, tight around his neck...and Tomas was starting to wonder if he can manage to be married both to God and to Marcus at the same time. It was a tangle of barbed wire he didn't want to face yet, so a distraction would be nice. Still, he wasn't going to push Marcus.

"Alright, alright, we'll go out. But how 'bout we settle in first? Drop our things off and then we'll see?" Marcus seemed to be in an indulgent mood, one of his better ones, so the chances were good he's going to get his afternoon out.

"Sure."

Marcus fully expected a crappy little abode with barely any space to move, hidden away in some back corner of the hotel, but the room was big enough and sunny too. It even had a bathroom for disabled people. The stewardess must have considered Tomas' situation, bless her heart. It had only one king sized bed, and why would it not, by the books they were a married couple. It still felt like some kind of crime, to shackle someone like Tomas to someone like Marcus. The old ball and chain, quite literally. Old, rusty and dragging him down, that's what Marcus felt like as they walked through the door to their room and Tomas went to wash up a bit. _What do I do if he decides he doesn't want to sleep in the same bed? There's only one now._ It was ridiculous and he knew it. Tomas slept in the same bed with him even when there were two available, but the doubts still kept creeping in. He was beautiful, even after hours and hours spent crammed into an airplane seat. The dark hair were messy and more curly now, after Tomas ran wet hands through them. The scruff on his jaw was getting deliciously rough, just enough to feel good rubbing against his cheek...or other places. Like the insides of his thighs, for example. That one thought made his neck burn up and Marcus quickly looked away, burrowing into his bag for some semi-clean and somewhat presentable clothing. If Tomas wants an evening out, so help him God, Marcus is going to give him one.

They had discount vouchers for a lot of the shops located in the same building complex as the hotel and a brochure of the services they offered. It was large enough building, equipped with a bar, two restaurants, a spa area, and a whole array of shops. He called and booked dinner for seven in the evening, but for now, Marcus had to figure out what to do. The spa would be nice, but Tomas' cast won't tolerate water. They were pretty far away from down town, all the paces with good bars and what not. It would be quite a ride, but still...

"I can hear the wheels spinning." Tomas commented offhandedly as he strode, well more like shuffled, up to his bag in nothing but his dark blue denim. That made Marcus' brain glitch for a moment.

"What?"

"The wheels in your head. I can hear them turning. You have that look on you face." he clarified.

"What look?"

"Like you're mildly in pain but too lazy to do anything about it." Tomas was smiling brightly, a little teasingly, down at him. "Would you like to tell your husband what your problem is? Maybe I could help?"

"Now you're happy to use the title?"

"I might abuse the...privilege? while I can." Those beautiful brown eyes were twinkling, bright and vivacious. He had to admire the resilience. A year ago he would have thought the first loss, the first battle would brake this kind and gentle man, but now he knew better. Tomas was gentle and he was kind, but he was also the most stubborn, die-hard human being Marcus has ever met. And he was his.

"I've been thinking where to go for the afternoon. There ain't all that many bars around and it's a bit early for that. I called for a dinner later, around seven, but..."

"We don't have to go anywhere special. Actually I've been thinking...They gave us all these vouchers, with some pretty good discounts...and I've been living in these jeans for a year. Also there's one for a free toothbrush and you really need to change yours. How long have you had it? A decade?"

"You want to get me a toothbrush?" Marcus stared up at Tomas not fully computing how that would be considered a fun activity.

"Amongst other things. Only if you want to, of course...We could go look for a bar. "

"No, no. I'd rather stay in this building so we can go back here if your leg gets tired."

"Alright, so let's go and have a look. We don't even have to buy anything, but God knows, for once we have the money for it. Cody pays awfully well."

"And they say the church is rich." Marcus smiled wryly as he got up to head for the bathroom. It probably won't be of much use, but it's still better not to stink. And his good shirt, the denim one, was even clean this time.

"Oh they are, it's just used on paintings with golden frames, not dirty old exorcists." Tomas voice followed him into the white and blue bathroom. Marcus had to laugh out loud.

The shopping area of the complex was well lit, clean and sparking with Christmas lights already. Business starts to rile up customers early. All the people moving around looked well off, decently dressed and immersed in their phones. This was the normal world, the one everyone else lived in, with no dusty roads, blood spattered shirts and nights spend awake on coffee and adrenaline. Usually he would have scoffed and sneered at it all, but for once, just for this one evening, Marcus thought it would be nice to be part of it. Just for a moment. To know what it feels like to be normal, to have a place in a world like this, not look like a bum, who just walked in to maybe get some spare change. Tomas hand slipped into the crook of his elbow and held on, big and warm palm wrapped around his forearm.

"Let's start small. Why don't we get that toothbrush?" He steered Marcus into something like a convenience store, with everything but the kitchen sink on the shelves. They got a toothbrush. And some fancy salt for the bath. Some new razors, shaving gel, and a little bag for Marcus to keep it all in. He felt like it was an overkill, Marcus didn't usually spent half as much on self care, but Tomas seemed happy about it, so he didn't argue. Maybe, just maybe, if felt a tinge nice to have someone pamper him a bit. That was until they got to one of the clothes stores. A posh one, too. The young woman roaming around noticed them pretty quickly and zeroed in on the two rings on their hands so fast Marcus was almost sorry to have bought them.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Can I help you?"She smiled broadly at them both.

"I think so, yes. Could you direct us to the men's clothes area?" Tomas smiled at her charmingly.

"Sure thing. That would be to your left. Maybe I could help you choose? Are you looking for something for yourself or your husband?"

That seemed to throw Tomas off his game for a second, but he recovered pretty fast.

"Both of us, maybe?"

"Let's just stick with clothing the handsome one." Marcus threw Tomas a stern look, but the young woman only giggled.

"And which one would that be? Because let me tell you that offstage rock star look is working just fine for me, if you don't mind me saying."

He had to stare for a second. She was joking, right? Tomas burst out laughing beside him. He smiled at Marcus so blindingly the exorcist thought he might need sunglasses.

"That makes the two of us." Tomas finally said, still beaming. All the warning looks Marcus tried his best to throw at Tomas seemed to bounce right off and he was starting to panic.

"Alright, what would you like to start with? Anything specific you're looking for?"

"A pair of jeans for me, maybe." Relief flooded Marcus hearing those words. Maybe he was off the hook after all?

"Alright, gents I'll be right back."

She brought Tomas innumerable pairs of jeans from baby blue, to crimson, to black and eventually he settled on a dark gray pair that hugged the curve of his arse just so. She paired it with a dark blue shirt. Marcus had to look away a few times not to get horny in a shop. Just great. That mood faded away fast when the wicked little clerk turned her eagle eye on him.

"And what can I get for you?"

"Nothing, darlin' I'm good." He tried his broadest grin, but it didn't seem to work. She was looking sideways at Tomas.

"How about we put on a little show for your husband, what do you think, sir? I think he'll appreciate it. I'll keep your style in mind, just hold on a second." she said before disappearing down the lines of clothes.

"Right, this is our chance to beat it." Marcus whispered urgently, almost dragging Tomas by his elbow. The problem was the big lump wasn't moving an inch.

"Let us have some fun. Your clothes are falling apart, it's only reasonable to get a few new ones. You told me you want me to enjoy the afternoon and I would really like it if you would get something nice for yourself. Just this once. Do it for me? Please?" He was so honest, so sincere in his desire to care for Marcus it broke all defenses down within a blink of an eye. Before he could so much as argue his case a little further, the girl came back with a bunch of clothes. Well. It was more like a mountain. She deposited it in the changing cabin with cheery abandon and shooed him right in.

"Come on, in you go. I have some pretty lovely ideas for you to try on."

The girl, her name was Sarah according to name tag, left him with a pair of jeans that seemed too small and a pale blue-gray sweater he would have never considered to get, just because it would get dirty really quickly. He tried to put a leg in and stopped midway. Surely jeans shouldn't be _that_ tight?

"Err, Sarah, sweetheart, I think these are a bit too small."

"No I'm sure it's the right size. Let's see." She squeezed him in and didn't even blink an eye. "It's a slim fit, that's why the leg is a little tighter, but you have such a lovely figure, all tall and lean, so you could use it. This will make that man of yours really happy, you'll see." Sarah, the clerk from hell, pushed him right out in front of Tomas. Marcus didn't dare to look up. He felt ridiculous, all gangly and old, stuffed into some fancy hip clothes. And Tomas just stood there as he fidgeted in the tight jeans and pulled the hem of the sweater down over and over. After what felt like eons he resigned to look up and found Tomas biting his lip, amusement dancing like fireworks in his dark eyes.

"That really looks good. Maybe try a few more?" Please was implied in the very tone and somehow Marcus couldn't say no. So he put on whatever was laid out before him and Tomas' eyes seemed to get darker with every new outfit. Eventually they settled on a wool and leather jacket, black jeans (a bit too tight for Marcus' liking) and a minimalist crimson sweater. They stuffed their old rags into a bag and walked right out in all of that. It felt like being part of a masquerade and it sent a thrill up Marcus' spine. Just for one night he could be someone else. Someone in nice, clean clothes with a charming husband on his arm and a nice evening to look forward to.

"Let's go back to our room." Tomas whispered into his ear and slung a hand around his waist like it was nothing.

"Why? Is your led acting up?"

"No, but I want to clean up before dinner." That was a vague answer if there ever was one, considering there were like two hours left before dinner, but if Tomas wanted to rest, why would he say no?

It turned out Tomas didn't exactly want to rest his leg. First thing he did back in their room was to run Marcus a bath with the nice smelling lavender and something or other bath salt. And then kiss him until he couldn't be sure what language he was thinking in at the moment.

"Tomas, Tomas, what's this about?" He managed to ask pulling away an inch. The warm hands lingering on the small of his back made him more than a little distracted.

"I want you to clean up before dinner."

"Could've taken a shower..."

Tomas nuzzled his neck, that rough texture of stubble scratching against sensitive skin there and Marcus nearly moaned.

"I've never been with a man before. I want to see your body, to touch it, to learn it. Will you let me?" Tomas' breath was tickling his ear in a very sensual way and the blonde felt himself getting half hard at the thought alone.

"There's not much to see..."

"I would still like to bathe you." He said it as if it was the most natural request in the world. Not one soul bathed him since he was six. "Please? I'll just wash your back, and maybe your hair, since it's hard with one arm."

Tomas made it all seem like a treat of some kind so he gave in, still a little dizzy from the surreal situation. The younger exorcist found some old jazz playlist on his phone while Marcus undressed and then sat in the the tub. Feeling self conscious the blonde held his knees close to his chest, to show off the least amount of his scars, though he knew Tomas probably has seen them before. His saint of a lover didn't reprimand him, just sat on the edge of the tub and squeezed the sponge with warm water over his back again and again. When the palm came to glide up and down his spine he felt too comfortable to care and the little neck massage was getting him a little boneless.

" _Cariño,_ lay back for me?" Tomas' voice sounded low and a little rough, like gravel. Somewhere in the background Ella Fitzgerald was singing about the foolish things that remind us of our loved ones and he went down without protest. Tomas's strong palm held the back of his neck as he dipped Marcus' head into the water and then lathered his short hair with shampoo, massaging it with steady, sure movements. Marcus felt like ice cream on a warm summer day - soggy and melting by the minute. His hair was rinsed and a soaped up sponge started it's path along his back, over his arms and neck. Then Tomas gently pushed him to lie down and the sponge continued along Marcus's chest only to be replaced by hands. Warm, water slick skin slid slowly over his collarbones and down the small indent between his pecks only to come around to tiny, rose pink nipples.

"Does this work?" Tomas asked tweaking one nipple experimentally "It feels good for women but I don't know if it works for men..."

Marcus gasped barely audibly and squeezed his eyes shut "Mhm..."

Seeming to like the answer Tomas took his time playing with the rosy buds, turning in slow circles around them, pinching and pulling a little bit until Marcus was little more than a whimpering mess, all needy and fully hard under the water. When those wonderful, torturous hands slid down his belly, brushing his ribs and swirling playfully around his bellybutton Marcus was nearly ready to beg.

"Marcus, can I touch you there?" The beloved voice whispered gently, bestowing a kiss upon his wet temple, and then another one on his forehead, then the tip of his nose...Marcus nearly forgot he's supposed to answer. "Marcus?"

"Please..."

A firm, hot palm wrapped around him in a second and Marcus' hips involuntarily bucked into that tight hold. "Christ..." he whispered biting his lips raw.

"Tell me how you like it. Show me how to please you?" Tomas whispered beside him as his hand slid slowly up and down the length of Marcus' cock. He would have laughed, but the thought that it was Tomas' hand on him, squeezing him, stroking him, brought the former priest so close to shooting it came out as a chocked sob.

"It...It won't take much finesse, 'm so close, just touch me...touch me, please..." he pleaded half delirious. And Tomas did. He stroked firmly and agonizingly slowly, playing with the crown for long moments, as if exploring it, running his fingertip over the slit, and wandering all the way down to squeeze the root. He seemed to be in no hurry and Marcus could barely breathe, so he finally dared to open his eyes and look up. Tomas eyes were dark with lust, they looked so hungry, so full of desire it made Marcus moan out loud "Oh God, please...faster, love, just...just a bit faster..." Obeying the command Tomas' hand sped up, ruining the last smithereens of sane thought Marcus may have had left. He couldn't control the inarticulate sounds that seemed to flow out of his mouth any longer and the only thing he could see was Tomas face, with those dark eyes and a flush high up his cheeks...and then the world went white.

He came down slowly, boneless and relaxed, floating in the warm water and feeling of safety. He knew Tomas was still beside him because his hand was running through Marcus' hair slowly, indulgently, with all the time to spare.

"Welcome back." he smiled sweetly as Marcus opened his eyes and the former priest suddenly wanted to cry. What did he ever do to deserve this? To have someone treat him like this? "You're beautiful when you come."

"I...I love you." It was not what he meant to say but it just tumbled out.

"I love you too." There wasn't even a hitch in Tomas' voice, it came out so naturally Marcus had to envy it. "Do you want help drying off?"

"I...er...It'be nice..." he finished lamely and got up. Tomas wrapped him in a towel, rubbed his back and his arms, kissing his shoulder as he did so. It took Marcus a second to notice the rather large bulge in Tomas' new jeans. Feeling heady with desire and all too bold he grabbed Tomas' hips and pushed him back to sit on the edge of the tub again.

"Marcus?"

Tomas was still riding the high of having Marcus writhing under his hands, watching him come undone, when the man in question pushed him to sit down. It took a moment to process what was happening when Marcus suddenly kneeled between his spread thighs, those strikingly bright blue eyes looking up at him.

"You don't have to do this. It's fine." He tried to reassure stroking Marcus' cheeks and trying to get him to stand back up, but the stubborn man undid his zipper instead.

"I want to. So much. I want to taste you." he whispered looking up pleadingly and Tomas couldn't say no. He wanted it just as much. The real Marcus was so different from his vision Marcus - he was shy and a little submissive, supple and sensitive. Responsive, though he tried to hide it, and so easy to please. It grounded Tomas in more than one way. And now those precious turquoise eyes were looking up at him, asking for permission.

"Anything. Anything you want. I'm yours, remember?" Tomas whispered smiling and gladly lifted his hips up to let Marcus drag his jeans down. When a pink tongue came out and happily proceeded to cat-lick the head of his cock Tomas thought he'll expire right then. He gripped the edge of the tub and counted to ten in German to stop himself.

"Lord almighty...Marcus!" That only seemed to make him bolder, and he wrapped those pale pink lips around Tomas shaft, sinking a little deeper with every slide. Placing a hand gently in the soft tawny blonde hair Tomas started to pet it and tried to control his breathing at the same time. It's been a while since he's been so turned on by anyone and now he was desperate to feel that velvet heat of Marcus' mouth surround him, but then he felt Marcus gag and cough a little bit. He pulled his lover off and tilted his chin up to look at Tomas.

"Not too much, _mi cariño_ , just as much as you can, it feels wonderful." There are plenty of men who would enjoy watching someone chocking on their dick, but Tomas was not one of them. He stroked Marcus cheek for a second to emphasize his point and then let him go. The maddening little licks resumed and Marcus' hand slid down to play with his balls, squeezing and massaging the soft orbs until Tomas was gasping for air. Probably feeling how close Tomas was he sucked the head into his mouth and set a punishing rhythm on the rest of it, hand slick with spit and Tomas' precome. Tomas' whole body tensed, toes curling on the cold tile floor and then he was tumbling over.

"Yes! Yes, just like that...Fuck!"

When his eyes fully focused the first thing he saw was Marcus, sitting on the blue tile floor with Tomas' come running down his chin. At that point it fully sunk in that there is no turning back, this man is his and will be, until one of them is dead. The thought was not even remotely daunting, all he felt at that point was relief. Finally he found someone true, someone he could love fully and wholeheartedly, because Marcus was so close to God, that loving him was loving God, and vice versa. This was a sacred kind of love and that is all he needs to know for now. Whatever they do from that point on, they do it as one. Rings or no rings. In London or in Vatican. They are one.

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Swiss guards stood on both sides of two weary looking men in clean and pressed clothes that didn't fit the weathered faces above the collars. One collar was in place already and the other was to take its place in a few moments.

They have been greeted as heroes, given communion, even if Marcus had no right to take it, and the best accommodation available. Mouse has come to greet them, but she was too busy running the whole clean up job and arguing with the sassy hacker, who came to visit the holy city after all. Upon being informed that he will be restored to the ranks of clergy any day now, Marcus knew he will turn it down. There was only one ring he wanted and that was the silver band around his finger. God spoke to him even without the white little square on his shirt collar.

It was no small thing to be absolved by the Pope himself and returned to the ranks of the church, but somehow Marcus didn't feel the grandiosity of it, even as he stood in front of the large oak door. He knew with unwavering clarity, that this gesture means nothing, really. After all that transpired in the last half a year, he didn't feel the longing or need for it anymore.

He's been absolved already, over half a year ago, on a pier in Seattle, cold wind blowing in his face. The finality of that moment was irrevocable in Marcus' mind. It was then, that he received the only forgiveness worth caring about.

After that moment nothing in this life could really seem grand anymore. The great marble structures, complex hierarchies, impeccably pressed black clothes - it was all smoke and mirrors – a charade. Whether you belong to one church or another factually is entirely irrelevant. He's seen people, who fought and died for God's world, for the people in it, without ever being part of the church. They were no less His warriors than Tomas, now standing at his side with a cane in left hand.

He won't be running any time soon, but the price was a relatively small one to pay. Others have given up so much more. With a fond and gentle sadness Marcus remembered a well loved copy of The Count of Monte Cristo lying on the bottom of his travel bag with a letter glued carefully into the back cover.

 _I'll be waiting for you on the other side. Don't hurry, I have a feeling there's plenty of time to spare…_

Marcus smiled, remembering the words and turned towards Tomas, standing prim and proper, with his back straight despite the cane. There was something regal, powerful in his poise, in the hard lines of his jaw, the dancing light in those gentle, but determined eyes. It was not a cub, but a lion standing by his side. An equal. A friend. And surprisingly, a protector of Marcus' heart. When had their roles changed he didn't know, but it was clear that they finally came into equilibrium - both being the protector and the protected at the same time.

As the door slowly slid open they both stepped forward in an even stride.

The Pontiff has greeted them standing, in the honour of their efforts in battle. They will be rewarded and hailed as heroes - people kept telling them all around as if they thought the war is over.

But the two exorcists knew the battle is not over. The battle has just begun…

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Thank you to all those who chose to read this story, I'm forever grateful for your time and attention! All my love, Siberian Cypress xx


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